


grow as we go

by mysterytwin



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Flowers, Fluff, Growing Up, Letters, Lists, M/M, Plants, Post-Canon, Self-Introspection, Slice of Life, gon goes back to whale island and thinks about things, gon-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin/pseuds/mysterytwin
Summary: After coming back home to Whale Island, Gon goes on a quest to figure out birdhouse building, proper gardening, and living with the rest of a life he didn’t expect to have.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs & Mito Freecs, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 42
Kudos: 149





	grow as we go

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday killua!!!
> 
> this was largely inspired by the last comic in idledee’s hxh artbook! i really love gon and flower themes and lists so this fic got a lot longer than i intended but it’s made from a whole lot love and far too many nature metaphors
> 
> the title is from grow as we go by ben platt (which i think is a very killugon song) so go listen to it if you like!! 
> 
> this is my love letter to gon freecss, and i hope you enjoy!

If you find bones by the ocean, take a moment to sit by the shore and listen. They are old, forgotten, with good stories to tell about souls that have travelled within, those who were lost but eventually found. Maybe they will tell you about the moon, and the magic that comes with the pulling of the tides.

If you find bones in the forest, run. Leave quickly, and don’t look back. Don’t ever return, don’t turn to check if anything was watching you go. The forest may love you, but there are nights where it knows no kindness or mercy, and these bones serve only as a warning.

* * *

It’s a clear, bright afternoon when the question comes. The sky is flat and filled with blue, the clouds coming along at a slow pace, taking their time to travel across the world. The ocean is crystal and calming, the view perfect from where Gon sits at the top of a grassy hill, watching the spot where the sky meets the sea in a blurry line. There are no ships at the harbor today, and with the high visibility to see, no one is coming or going, either. A still day, one like many others, folding into one another like dominoes.

He breathes, a slow exhale, feeling the wind touch his skin in a gentle pattern. He’s had many days like this before, and he’ll have many more of them to come. Like this, he’ll never run out of time, never have to think about his place. He’d grown up with the way the day turns into night in an easy manner of seconds taking flight into hours, sunsets meeting sunrises, the moon’s constant chase. People who come by the harbor never really stay too long, and those who make a home never really leave. Whale Island is a place just like that—somewhere to simply pass by, where merchants stop by to sell their goods, ships come to restock, and fishermen hear of good spots. A place of stillness, grounded in its security to _just be_ —and Gon’s home is right at the heart of it.

But in all of its solace, it has never been too good at containing boys like him.

First, there was Ging Freecss. He’d left without any intention of coming back, daring in his might to chase after whatever he was looking for, whatever he didn’t already have, leaving legends in his wake. He only came back once—and when he did, he’d left Gon behind.

Gon, who’d chased after him in a misplaced dream that it would answer what he didn’t know, who molded himself after his father’s back, who climbed higher and higher only to feel the fall when it was far too late to look down. Who’d gotten caught up in a war that was never his, who lost too much and had nearly thrown his life away in the process. And now here he is again, standing in Whale Island, back at the beginning.

Like father, like son. Neither cut out to be the part they’re supposed to play.

He shuts his eyes for a brief moment, and counts every breath that leaves his lips. He hears a bird soar overhead, the soft whistling of the wind, the grass rustling beneath him. The smell of salt not too far away—the whole island, full of life all around, pulsing and alive, just like him.

He’d almost lost all of this.

(For a moment, he is back in the forest. He stands in front of Pitou, and it is dark and loud, and he feels scared and alone and _relieved._ Then Killua is there, and oh, it’s _Killua,_ he shouldn’t be here, what is Gon doing—)

“What do you do with the rest of a life you didn’t expect to be alive for?”

The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them, the syllables etching themselves palpable into the air before him. His eyes blink open, back into Whale Island, no longer in the forest. He’s in the brightest place he could ever possibly imagine, out of the dancing shadows and the whispering woods. He is safe, and far, far away—but his heart beats as if he is still there, and maybe a part of him always will be. The part that he’d lost, the piece of him that had _died_ , sacrificed for moments far too long.

“Oh, Gon,” Mito says quietly, her eyes wide in surprise, and he knows her well, and he can tell that she’s looking for the right words to say. She scoots closer to him, taking one of his hands in her own. It’s calloused and rough from years of hard work, but Gon has never known anything softer. “You are worth more than what happened to you, okay? It doesn’t matter what mistakes you’ve made before, or where you’ve been. You are deserving of every day that you are alive.”

“But—” he starts to say, because he _knows,_ in his head her words are something he already knows. That he is lucky to be here, to be alive and breathing, just like everything around him—that if Killua hadn’t come, he wouldn’t be here now. He knows that. It’s his heart that has a hard time remembering. It only knows how to feel, after all, and the aftertaste of everything that’s happened is a lot harder to water down than everything else. “I didn’t—I wasn’t supposed to—it was _my fault._ All of it. If Killua hadn’t been there, then I—”

His voice breaks, and without any delay, Mito wraps her arms around her son, holding him tightly. It’s a comfort, and it’s like he’s four again, back when there had been a storm on the island, the roughest they’ve ever seen. All the lights had gone out, and though Gon’s never been too afraid of them, always one to be fascinated by the strike of lightning, Mito had sat next to him, arms around him, and taught him to find how far the lightning had been by the thunder that followed.

It’s a bit like that again.

“Gon, my brave, beautiful boy,” Mito says, her voice a little shaky, but surer than anything else. “You are more loved than how the moon loves the sun, you hear me? And no matter what, I will always be here for you. I will always love you. Don’t ever forget that. Always and constantly.”

It takes him a few moments, but Gon nods slowly, and he wipes at the tears that had managed to slip. Killua had always teased him for being a crybaby. He sits up a bit better, and Mito doesn’t let go of his hand. She squeezes it tight, a coded _I love you_ that they made all those years ago, and she faces the view before her head-on.

Gon’s always had his suspicions, but now he’s sure that Mito is the best of all of them.

He plucks a flower from his side, and holds it up to her, tucking it into her hair. She laughs lightly, and Gon smiles at her, shaky hands turning steady.

“Maybe you should make a list,” Mito says after a while, the wind blowing through her hair. She offers him a gentle smile, the flower he had given her still even as she moves. “That way, you won’t forget. So you can see it every day and remember all the things that you have to live for.”

He considers it. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it would help, and then he could get better. He could learn about what he’s done wrong, and how to fix it, all the things he told himself to mend. It’s easier to remember things if they’re right in front of him, and maybe the time will come when he’s had it memorized so well he won’t need it to remember anymore.

“Okay,” Gon says, because if there’s anything he’s ever been good at, it’s building his resolve. He nods, more determined. “Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Mito says, smiling. She holds up her pinkie. “And if it’s not too much to ask, Gon, if you ever have thoughts like that again, tell me, okay? I’ll always be here to help you.”

He links his own pinkie around hers. “I promise,” he says solemnly, offering a smile of his own. “Pinky swear made! Whoever breaks their promise has to swallow a thousand needles.”

Gon presses a kiss to Mito’s cheek. “Sealed with a kiss!”

She grins at him, and maybe it’s a Freecss thing, after all, Gon thinks, to smile so easily, to wear one even after all that you’ve overcome.

It’ll take a while, Gon knows. But he’s learned that every day is precious, and he’s determined not to waste it. He’s starting from the beginning again, but that just means he’ll be able to grow all over again.

He’ll get it right, this time.

* * *

_**A LIST OF PEOPLE AND THINGS I LOVE** _

**_by Gon Freecss_ **

#1: Mito and Abe

_for always loving me no matter what_

* * *

On the days that Mito doesn’t make him do his homework, Gon finds himself out by the harbor, helping fishermen with their catches, guiding people on where to go, and telling the curious tales about the kinds of places you find on the island. He gets a lot of errand requests from the old ladies who sell produce down by the market, which is good, because then they give him all sorts of fruits and vegetables in return. He’s very thankful.

He’d just about finished helping out an older fisherman when the next boat off the island finally finishes getting ready to leave. She turns to him then, curled hair donned into a bun on top of her head, jewelry on her fingers and around her neck. She’d been interested in a lot of the plants around the island, and Gon was happy enough to answer them.

“Take this, dear boy,” she says, and in her hand she holds out a little seed, brown and oval, rough-looking. He’s never seen that kind before. “It’s from my island, very far from here. If it isn’t too much trouble, it’d be nice if you could plant it somewhere around here. It’ll grow into a very strong tree, if you take care of it right.”

Gon takes the seed and nods. “Of course!” he exclaims, smiling, already thinking of the empty spot next to the house. He places it in his pocket with utmost care, saluting the woman with two fingers to his forehead. “Have a safe trip!” He waves at her as she boards the boat, excited to see just what the seed will grow into.

He rushes back home, grabbing his gloves and a watering can as he goes. Gon walks over to the side of the house, close enough to where Mito usually dries out the laundry, just at the edge of the hill. Carefully, he takes the seed out of his pocket and digs out a hole deep enough into the soil. Placing the seed gently into the soil, he covers it up again, then waters over it. Surely, it’ll take time, growing plants always does, maybe even years and years, but it’s always worth it in the end.

He’s not even sure if it’ll be able to survive on Whale Island, especially if it came from so far away—but still, he has high hopes that it’ll grow into something big and strong. It’s nice to care for something sometimes, especially with his own natural affinity for plants, to care for something that exists just to thrive in the ground, to grow into something beautiful in its own time.

Facing towards the sun, Gon watches as it takes its position among the clouds, over all of them. Standing right at the heavens, he had dreams of reaching it once.

And maybe one day he’ll still be able to, but first he has his own bit of growing to do first.

* * *

“ _Killua!”_ Gon yells the moment he answers the phone, giggling at the way he hears Killua curse at the volume. He leans back on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest, phone cradled close to his ear. Talking to Killua always makes him so happy, like a sunburst threatening to explode inside of him. “I missed you!”

He can already imagine the blush growing on Killua’s cheeks, the watercolor pink spreading right to the tip of his ears.

“Stupid,” Killua hisses, and in the background, Gon make out the sound of cars beeping in the distance—the bustle of a city. Killua’s always found cities more comforting, Gon knows, especially since there are so many places to hide. But Gon’s never really liked it, not really—their stay in York New had proved to be exciting in the simple way of being _new_ to him, but it’s not some place he’d like to stay in too long. Why stay somewhere where it was too bright to even see the stars?

“Ne, Killua,” Gon says after a moment. He wonders if it would be right of him to ask—or if Killua will skip over the moment in hesitation, like he does when he’s not sure of what Gon will say. He knows that Killua sometimes chooses not to say these kinds of things, maybe in fear that Gon will be jealous—but he has no right to be, of course, because this is something he did by himself, and Killua shouldn’t be feeling guilty over something that was never his fault. “Where are you now?”

Killua hums, the static nearly muted out. “Alba City,” he answers after a moment. “There’s a really big carnival right now. Alluka and Nanika wanted to see it.” There’s a small pause. “You…you would’ve liked it here, I think. The light pollution isn’t too bad, so you can still see the stars. It’s near the ocean, too. There are lots of things to do.”

“Oh,” Gon says, and there’s a sinking feeling in his chest—a mix of longing and want, maybe—but he shakes it off. He knows why Killua is out there now, and what it entails for both of them. He tries for a smile. “Then you’ll just have to make sure you have enough fun for the both of us, Killua.”

“Yeah,” Killua agrees softly. How many miles are there between them now, Gon wonders? How long would it take to bridge the distance that separates them? How much is taken away from them? They lose something in this silence, in this solemn static, in this two-way phone call, a body language that they haven’t quite mastered. There is so much left unsaid, things that can’t quite be brought up until they’re face-to-face—but how long will it be until then? How much are they willing to lose from all that they’re trying to save by doing this?

“Anyway, what have you been up to?” Killua asks. “Aside from homework, obviously. Actually, were you able to solve that one algebra problem from last week? The one about pancakes?”

“Oh, yeah!” Gon exclaims. He’d called Killua in an attempt to solve it, because, he reasoned, that Killua is smart and knows lots of things and is actually really good at math when he isn’t pretending, and that maybe he’d be able to help. That, and maybe he wanted to hear Killua’s voice outside of their weekly calls. “I tried searching it up, and apparently the answer was two.”

Killua curses on the other end of the line, and Gon laughs. “Of course it was! I was so close! Damnit, Gon!”

“It’s okay, Killua, you were really close,” Gon reassures him, and that only seems to infuriate him more, which causes Gon to laugh even more. He hums along to the sound of cicadas outside. “Yesterday, I caught a new kind of fish I’ve never seen before,” he tells his best friend. “It was shiny and pink. I can send you a photo, I think Alluka and Nanika might like it.”

“Sure,” Killua says.

“Oh! And a few days ago, I planted a new seed. A fisherman gave it to me, and I think it’ll grow really well. Two little leaves sprouted yesterday, Killua! Maybe if it bears any good fruit, I could send you some. But that’ll probably be a long time from now…” he muses, trailing off. “Oh, but this is all kinda boring compared to what you’re doing, isn’t it, Killua? Sorry.”

“No! No, Gon, it’s—it’s not boring,” Killua says quickly, always one to reassure him, and Gon smiles a little at that. “It’s interesting, you know? Since it’s coming from you. And how’s Mito-san? Does she still nag you about your homework?”

“She’s good! She gets a little frustrated with me sometimes, but she’s really nice about it, too! She’s really patient when I ask her things,” Gon tells him, and he thinks about what Mito told him before, something to help him get by with his days. “She also told me…she told me that maybe if it would help, if I made a list.”

“A list?” Killua asks, curious, the question curling around the speaker. “What kind?”

“Just—a list of things that I love,” Gon answers, voice suddenly small. “It helps me remember. That I’m here now. That I can’t change what happened back then, and that I have to keep going from there. I haven’t written a lot yet, but I think I might know what to put next.”

“Yeah?” Killua says softly, barely even audible. There’s a weighted tension between them now, taut like a pulled rubber band from both edges, and Gon doesn’t dare breathe. “That’s good, Gon. It’s—it’s a good idea.”

“You think so, Killua?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “You’re saying my name a lot.”

“Oh,” Gon says. He hadn’t really noticed. “Well, I guess I just miss saying it. _Kil-lu-a.”_

“Idiot,” Killua mutters, but even if Gon can’t see him, he knows that there’s a smile on his face—and maybe it’s fond, too, like it always was. Embarrassed and pleased all at once. “You don’t have to miss me so much, you know.”

“But I do. I miss you, Killua,” Gon says, feeling the raw honesty thrum like chords in his chest, an honest truth that he knows deep down in his very bones. “You’re my best friend,” Gon says, but somehow it feels more than just that—for all that they’ve been through, all they’ve seen and felt and conquered, they are more than _just best friends_ , more than just two people who met by circumstance, more than two kids who were the same age, because nothing stays unless you work for it, and they wouldn’t have come this far without choosing each other every day. “I miss you so much, and I knew I would miss you a lot, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“Yeah,” Killua says into the stillness. “Yeah, I miss you a lot, too.”

For a moment, they just breathe into the silence. Maybe it’s because of the lag, or something to do with time differences—but they’re not in sync like they used to be. With one inhale, there is another exhale, out of rhythm and out of tune. Two steps forward, five steps back. Not quite on the same page.

How much is being taken from them?

“I have to go,” Killua says after a moment. The cars are getting louder where he is. Maybe it’s early morning? “Alluka will be waking up soon,” he tells Gon. “I’ll call you again next week, okay?”

“Oh. Okay,” Gon says quietly. “Bye, Killua.”

“Bye, Gon.”

The line goes dead, and the room is filled with silence.

With a sigh, Gon lets his phone fall onto his bed by his side. He looks out the window and finds the moon staring right back at him, the stars twinkling little beams. It reminds him a lot of Killua sometimes, the pale light against skin, still so bright even in the darkness. A compass to guide him home.

That night, before sleeping, Gon adds another name to his list. This one had been obvious from the very start. It’s the one thing he knows will remain constant, no matter how much time will change them. This one will stay.

* * *

#2: Killua

_for everything_

* * *

Halfway through his homework, Gon notices a pair of birds perched on his windowsill, chirping quietly at each other. Humming an old song he heard on the radio, he walks down to the kitchen, taking a banana from the counter. Mito isn’t home yet; she’d gone out to the market to sell some of the recent vegetables she’d been growing, and Abe likes to stay by the docks to watch people fish on clear days.

With as much grace he can muster, he cuts the banana into small pieces, places them on a plate, and takes a bigger portion for himself to eat. Once he’s finished, he takes it back up to his room, feet padding across the wood in measured steps, ones he’s known his whole life. Then, without trying to scare the birds away, he places the banana pieces on the windowsill. One of them goes to the newly-placed food with curious eyes, not hesitating before taking a peck. The other follows easily enough, and soon enough they’ve eaten through half of what Gon’s offered. He eats his own portion of the banana, and leaves out more of what’s left.

Gon sits back on his chair, homework laid before him, propping his chin on his hand, head tilted to watch the birds as they peck away at the banana pieces. Once they’re finished, they stare back at him, and it’s a little funny, Gon thinks, almost as though they’re asking his permission to leave. He nods, and they seem to understand, an odd thing to think about, before unfolding their wings and fluttering out the windowsill. Together as they go.

He smiles to himself. It’d be nice to have more birds come and go, he thinks, or to be able to give them a place to stay, even if just for a bit. Maybe he could build a birdhouse! He could put it right next to his window, put a little hole for nesting, maybe add a little cup of water that he could easily refill, and watch them come and go! It would sure be a fun thing to do, especially with how _boring_ homework can get…

He’ll ask Mito about it later. If he can finish his work early, maybe he can even get started! There’s some old, unused wood in the shed that they keep for just in case something happens, but this could finally be the time to use it. It’d be fun. It would give him something to do. Put these hands back to work, even if it’s just a while. Make him useful, give an offering out to the world.

Prove that he isn’t useless.

That he isn’t stagnant, or still—that despite being stuck on Whale Island, he can still find more things to do. He can still build his own adventure, or hunt for new things and be creative. He can still have fun, in his own little ways. That he’s learning to be better, by doing this.

With a nod to himself, Gon looks back down at his homework, determined to finish it. Once Mito comes back home, he’ll ask her, and then he’ll be on his way. It’ll be good, and it’ll be fun. He can do it.

* * *

He tried going deep into the forest once.

Two weeks after he came back to Whale Island, it had been a sunny day, the sky as clear as it could be, the clouds almost touchable. It was a good day, and he thought that maybe he could go for an adventure again, like how he used to.

Maybe he could even see Kon again.

He’d managed to make it past what he usually went through to gather berries, hopping from tree to tree, the wind tickling his face as he went on. It had felt nice, the green around him a comfort he hadn’t felt in so long. He ran along the ground, laughing, deeper and deeper, his arms open wide, poking his head on the treetops to find the rest of the island below him, a whole world in his hands. It felt good. Good, for a restless boy like him, who kept all the anticipation tucked away in his knees, who knew of freedom and longed for even more, burning wax wings and all.

It reminded him so much of his childhood, he’d spent days and days just walking around and discovering all there was to be—until night would fall and Kon would help carry him home, the stars blinking them a path back out of the forest. He’d swim and eat and play, and the whole world was just him, these animals he called friends, and the trees and the flowers and everything he could see. It was all he had, and then he’d learned to start wishing for even more.

Gon had stopped to take a break, resting against the trunk of a tree, breaths coming quickly as he sat down, letting himself stay still under the shade. He’d closed his eyes, just for a moment, and when he’d opened them—

He wasn’t on Whale Island anymore.

He was back there—in Peijin, in the forest, not too far away from the fallen body of a man he believed he could save. Everything was dark now, the leaves thick enough to block out the sunlight, the shape of trees unfamiliar to him. He didn’t know where he was—not exactly, it had been too long, he was lost now, wasn’t he, _lost—_ and it looked all too much like it was back then, an empty clearing, and the birds had stopped singing, eerily quiet, listening to the way his breaths come out uneven, rising and rising in the panic, the trees closing in on him, and there was something burning in the air, faster and faster, and the _blood,_ why was there blood, whose was it, blue and red, _was it his—_

He’d closed his eyes, hugged his knees to his chest and held himself tightly, breathing in and out as deep and steady as he could make it. He’d desperately tried not to replay the memory, the stone in him finally hitting rock bottom. And then when he stopped shaking, he’d opened his eyes, and walked until he reached the part of forest that he knew, and didn’t stop until he made it back home into the arms of Mito.

He doesn’t go too deep into the forest anymore.

He likes to think that maybe one day he’ll be able to again, but it’s too much for now. Places have changed their meaning, and he’ll stay away for now, make sure that he’s okay first, before he goes back in.

And sometimes, Kon leaves him food out on the cliff side where they used to meet when Gon is around, so it’s reassuring enough, that he doesn’t need to go looking in the forest for older parts of himself. Some of them, he can find right here, where it’s easier to breathe. He doesn’t need to go looking for his old self—not when there’s a new him that he has to take care of.

It takes a little bit of relearning, but he’ll get there.

* * *

#3: Kon

_for all the fun we had together_

* * *

“Mito-san?” Gon calls out nervously, softly padding into the room. Anxiety beats a little heavy on his heart, but he holds himself firmly. He’s not sure if it’ll help exactly, but it might make him feel better. “Can I ask you something?”

She puts the book down she was reading on the table, and looks up at him with a worried expression, eyebrows furrowing. “Is something wrong?”

He scratches the back of his neck, and he can’t really bring himself to look her in the eye. Instead, he stares at the wooden floor, traces the curves of the edges with his eyes. It’s familiar. “Can you,” he begins, tasting the words in his mouth, sheepish. “Could you cut my hair?” He fingers one of the strands. “I think it’s getting too long.”

(Too long, and it’ll remind him of when all his hair had pooled out, longer than it’s ever been, gravity-defying. All the power surging within him, down to his very roots, and he imagines it choking him, all over his skin, wrapping around him, and it’s dark and black and all _too much._ He doesn’t like looking at himself in the mirror that much.)

There’s a flash of surprise on his aunt’s face, but it disappears quick enough for her to push herself out of her seat, standing up and placing her hands on her hips. “Alright,” Mito says with a smile. “I’ll go get scissors and a comb. Do you mind getting a towel to wrap yourself with?”

Gon nods, entirely grateful, and heads to do what he’s told. He remembers the night he’d told her about everything that happened with the chimera ants—it had taken him three days to get the courage to tell her, and he’d felt absolutely terrible after, and his aunt had cried, too, but she’d been really gentle and kind about it. She’d held him for as long as he needed, and told him that what was important was that he was here, that he was alive, and that there wasn’t anything broken that couldn’t be fixed with a little time.

It’s quiet as she cuts his hair, save for the soft sounds of snipping, and occasionally Mito will hum a song under her breath, one of Gon’s old favorites from when he was a kid. It eases away the tension, bit by bit, and as he feels hair fall down from his shoulders, he can feel himself getting lighter and lighter. He’s really grateful that she’s doing this for him, and even though she’s done this ever since he was young, they both know that this time is different. That this time means something. And Gon desperately wants to let go.

He thinks about that time when Killua came with him to visit the island after coming back from Heavens Arena. Mito had cut their hair then, too. It feels like lifetimes ago.

“Finished,” she says with a chirp, and she passes him a handheld mirror. Gon stares back at himself, and finds that she’s made his hair shorter, just like he asked, but he doesn’t really look all that different. He looks younger, maybe, a little like how he’d been before he left Whale Island the first time. “A jenny for your thoughts?”

He puts the mirror down, and looks up at her, and smiles as wide as he can. “I really like it,” he says genuinely. Taking the towel off of him, he walks over to her and gives her a hug. “Thank you, Mito-san. I really appreciate it.”

A comforting hand on his back, a familiar pressure that’s always welcomed. Mito smiles. “Of course, Gon.”

* * *

Gon wipes the sweat off his forehead, thankful for the headband that Mito had bought him the other day. He’s working on the birdhouse, trying to fit the pieces of wood together and measuring them. The sun beats down heavily on his back, brown skin turning golden where the light catches him, but Gon persists—always stubborn when he wants something, a determination that can’t be stopped.

He’s already finished the base, and he’s got an idea of what it’ll look like. A little house, with a square hole in the middle where the birds can rest, and a small cup by the side for them to drink water. He wants to hang it by his window so it’ll be easy enough for him to reach, so he’ll have to fasten it to the wall somehow. He’s really excited to paint it, too.

Halfway through measuring the walls, tongue sticking out in concentration, Mito’s voice rings loudly, calling his name from inside the house. She opens the door not too many seconds later, glancing down at him with his beetle phone in her hand.

She sticks it out to him. “It’s for you,” she says, an amused smile on her lips. “Someone named…Zushi? He seemed pretty nervous.”

“Really?” Gon exclaims excitedly, scrambling to stand up and dusting off his shorts. He takes the phone from Mito, and holds it up close to his ear. “ _Zushi!”_

“Hi, Gon!” Zushi answers back, and his voice isn’t as squeaky as it used to be, Gon notes—the same, but a little different, too. Everyone’s always changing, in a way. “How are you? It’s been so long!”

“I’m good! I’m back on Whale Island now!” Gon replies amicably, grinning. “What about you? How’s your training? Are you still in Heavens Arena?”

“Ah! I’ve got my hatsu completely down now! Master Wing says I still need to polish it a little more, but it’s working pretty well!” Zushi tells him, and Gon can feel the smile through his words. “But we’re not in Heavens Arena anymore! Wing-san and I bumped into his old teacher, so she’s been helping me with training, too! It’s a little too much sometimes, actually…”

Gon pauses for a moment, squinting at a nearby sunflower. Wing’s teacher…? Isn’t that— “You’re with Bisky?” he asks Zushi quickly, eyes widening in the realization of what this might mean.

“Yeah!” Zushi says. “Oh, wait! That’s right! She did mention knowing you and Killua! Sorry, I forgot about that.”

“Do you mind if I talk to her just for a bit?” Gon asks, apologetic. “I’ve been trying to reach her about my nen, but I never actually got her number! She’s really hard to track down.”

“Oh, sure! Master Wing’s out right now, but you could also talk to him if you want to,” he says kindly. There’s a bit of rustling on the other end before Zushi continues, “Here, I’ll hand you over to her. It seems pretty important, so we can continue this later!”

“Of course, thank you so much!” Gon says gratefully, bowing even when Zushi can’t see him.

“Gon?” Bisky’s voice cuts in, clear and sharp. “Is that you?”

“Bisky!” Gon says. “I need to ask you a bunch of questions about my nen! Is that okay?”

“You’re interrupting my prime time for relaxing, you know,” Bisky says in that teasing tone of hers, the kind that tells Gon that she doesn’t really mean it. “But alright, since you’re one of my best students. Just don’t tell him, you hear?”

Gon giggles. “I won’t tell Killua.”

“Good,” she says, huffing. “Now what was it you wanted to ask?”

Gon squirms. He digs his shoe into the soil, suddenly nervous. “It’s about—about what happened. Back then.” He pauses for a moment, breathes in and out. “I can’t—I can’t see my nen anymore.”

There’s a short pause, before Bisky clicks her tongue. “I see.”

“But I called Ging, and he said that when he was with me, _he_ could see it. So that means that it’s still there, it’s just that I can’t see it,” Gon tells her, feeling a weight float down on his chest. It’s been really hard without his nen, after being so used to having it around him all the time. And the thing is, he knows why. He knows why he can’t see it.

He didn’t expect it to be a problem back then. He had been prepared to give up everything, after all. He didn’t know he would still be here.

“You made a restriction, didn’t you?” Bisky asks after another moment of silence, voice grave. “What kind was it?”

“I didn’t think—I just—” Gon starts to say. He takes a deep breath, then another. “I used up everything I had. I didn’t care what happened after.”

Bisky hums, contemplating. “Seems to me you’ve run out of aura to use. Your storage has been depleted. You still have the general aura around you, since your nodes are open, but you don’t have access to them.”

Gon nods. “That’s what I think, too.”

“Well, then,” she says, and it’s almost nostalgic, the way her voice changes into something authoritative, reminding of him of their days on Greed Island. “Practice your basic ten every day and meditate. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before, but if you practice enough, it might be able to strengthen your aura back up.”

“Okay,” Gon says. With a nod, he adds, “Thanks, Bisky.”

“Gon…” Bisky trails with an exasperated sigh. Concern wraps itself around her words as she continues, “Take care of yourself, alright? I don’t wanna hear that you’re in a hospital again. I thought I taught you better than that.”

He laughs nervously. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’m. I’m working on it. I’m doing better now, I promise. I won’t do it again.”

“Good,” she says. “Alright, I’m gonna hand you over to Zushi now, the kid looks like he’s gonna burst. You better call again soon, got it? And tell that brat to come by some time!”

Gon laughs at that, bright and earnest. “Yeah, I’ll tell him! And don’t worry, I will!”

There’s more rustling and static on the other end, a bit of squabbling and a door opening, before Zushi’s voice comes through the line. They talk a little more, catching up on all the things Zushi’s had to undergo with Bisky’s training, and all the adventures they’ve both had since they last spoke. It’s nice to hear from an old friend, even if they come from so far away.

He thinks of Leorio and Kurapika, and resolves to call them tomorrow.

By the time the call finishes, it’s already late into the afternoon, and the sun is already beginning to set. The sky’s turned into a pale shade of blue to give way to the moon, patches of orange around where the sun begins its descent down the horizon, reflecting colors back into the sea. Almost like cotton candy, pink clouds find themselves drawn to the open space, a gentle descent for a good night. Soon, it’ll be dark, and he won’t have any light to work with to build the birdhouse. It’s okay, though, he reassures himself—there’s no hurry. He has all the time he needs.

Mito calls him for dinner, and Gon cleans up, placing things back where they belong and putting the base in the shed to pick up again the next day. He goes inside the house, to the fresh smell of cooked rice and vegetables, and smiles. There’s always tomorrow, after all.

* * *

#4: All the friends I’ve made

_for sticking by me, and staying_

_even as I start back at the beginning_

* * *

“There are weeds growing in the garden, Mito-san.”

Gon turns to her from where his aunt stands in the house, looking at him through the window, hands around the wood to keep her from toppling over. He looks at her with gardening gloves on, a sunhat on his head to shield him from the summer sun.

“They’ve grown really tall,” he observes. Mito’s been pretty busy lately, since with summer comes more tourists passing by the island. That means more things to sell or trade, so most days find her down by the port, carrying her latest produce. “But I don’t think it’ll take too long to take them out.”

“I’ll bring you some snacks out when I’m done cleaning,” Mito says warmly.

“Thank you!” he tells her gratefully, before crouching down and beginning to get to work. Mito hums a tune behind him as he cleans, and Gon follows the melody along as he tends to the weeds.

He’s done this more times than he can count, so it’s with practiced movements that he starts weeding. The sunflowers aim their petals towards the sky, following their path to the sun, and the few rose bushes curl amongst themselves, prickly with their thorns. The soil is damp and even beneath his feet and between his fingers, moving easily enough to his will. It’s not too bad, really.

An hour and a half later, Mito calls him from the doorway, a small tray in her hands. He wipes the sweat of his brow, puts down his hat, and walks over to where she stands, grinning. There are two glasses of orange juice and a plate of freshly-baked cookies on the tray, and as she takes a seat on the steps, she places it down next to her. Gon sits on the other side, stretching his legs out.

He thanks her before taking a swift gulp of his drink and grabbing a cookie from the plate. They’re chocolate chip, and Gon thinks about how Killua would’ve liked them if he were here. He wonders where Killua is now—if he’s in a city again, or an island somewhere, strolling along the beach. Maybe he’s in the mountains, taking Alluka to see greater heights, or somewhere a little more hidden, a small town somewhere, surrounded by miles and miles of forest.

“You know,” Mito begins to speak, but her eyes are focused on the garden before them, the blooming flowers and half-turned leaves. “They say that relationships are like a garden.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She smiles, and gestures before him. “You were taking care of the flowers just now, weren’t you?” she says. “They’re a part of you, and a part of the world. They are the connections you make, and in return, they will care for you, too. They will grow, just as you do.”

It takes him a moment to properly understand, for her words to sink in deep enough for it to click with meaning. But Gon nods, knowing what she means. You can’t expect something to grow if you don’t water it. You can’t expect someone to stay if you never told them you wanted them to.

“Take care of your garden, Gon,” Mito tells him gently, almost as though her words are her own song to the wind. “It’s not any good to grow alone.”

Gon blinks. There’s something there, he knows, something in her words that means more than what lies here, on the surface with him and the flowers swaying together. Something rooted even deeper than what he can see, but he also knows that she won’t give him the answer so easily, that this is one thing he must figure out by himself.

After they’ve finished eating the cookies, Mito heads back inside and Gon goes back to the garden. He’s still thinking about Mito as he goes along, watching the clouds change colors in the sky. Even after he’s finished, he sits on the steps to just watch the world pass by him, to listen to the growing song of the cicadas, minutes slowing down into seconds like honey. It’s almost dream-like, dazed, and he’s trying to find stability, to ground himself on the words she’d spoken. What she was trying to say—and if he will find it.

It’s not good to grow alone. It’s better to do it together.

For a moment, he thinks about Killua again. He wonders if the moon looks the same where he is, too.

* * *

_Dear Gon,_

_Here’s a keychain I bought from Beetle Island. I saw it and I thought of you. You know, since you’re kinda like a frog._

_By the way, did you see the moon last night? It was really bright. You always noticed that kind of thing, that’s all._

_Killua_

* * *

Gon sees the boat in the distance before it’s even docked, just a small dot on a wide expanse of blue. He vibrates in excitement, jumping around his room, just waiting for it to come. He’ll have to apologize to Mito for not being able to do his homework, but she’ll understand. This is important, after all.

The ship takes shape a few minutes later, turning into something more solid, white sails flowing in the wind. It takes a little more time before it finally settles properly next to the land, and Gon can barely contain himself as soon as that happens. He races down the house, presses a quick kiss to Mito’s cheek before rushing out the door and running down the hill. His feet take him where he wants to go, even with eyes closed, he’s memorized the dirt roads and the concrete steps better than anything else, a map etched on the back of his palm.

By the harbor, people are beginning to disembark. He jumps to see over the heads of all the people, hoping to get a better glimpse. People from all over the world come by during the summer, sometimes just to relax for a few days, or usually just a stopover point for a longer journey. Then, he spots them, and his heart soars, more overjoyed than ever before.

“ _Leorio!”_ he shouts, cupping his hands over his mouth. “ _Kurapika!”_

He throws a hand in the air to wave at them, watching with a small giggle as Leorio’s head swivels around to try to find him. Kurapika follows slowly behind, a little more calm in their search for Gon, red earring glinting in the sunlight.

With a little hop, Gon laughs and runs toward them, throwing his arms open. He calls both of their names again, as loudly as he can, finally getting their attention in the right direction. Leorio breaks out into a wide smile when he sees him (and maybe there are already tears in his eyes), and Kurapika grins, looking golden and happier than Gon’s seen them in a really long time.

“Gon!” Leorio yells, arms already open to brace for the impact. Gon crashes into him, laughing as Leorio spins him around in the air, holding tightly. After a moment, Leorio sets him back to the ground with a little thump.

Gon turns to Kurapika, and doesn’t hesitate before pulling them into a bone-crushing hug, burying his face into their shirt, hoping that it will make up for all the time spent without one another. The last he had seen Kurapika was back in York New City, and then the next he had heard was that they were in the Dark Continent with Leorio. He’d been worried about them, because if _Ging_ of all people wanted to go there, then that meant it was more dangerous than anyone could imagine. But he’d been a little excited, too, and he’d let himself imagine what it would be like, if he could go there too one day. Maybe it’s a little foolish of him, but Gon Freecss has always been a dreamer.

When he lets go, he feels a little teary-eyed. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Leorio and Kurapika are here, with him, and they’re safe and alive. That’s what matters.

“I’m so happy you guys could come!” Gon says excitedly, clapping his hands together. “It’s been so long!”

“You’ve grown quite a lot, Gon,” Kurapika tells him, a warm smile on their lips. Looking at them a little closer, Gon finds that he’s quickly catching up to Kurapika’s height—and maybe in a few months, he would be even taller than them. “Thank you for inviting us here.”

“Of course! I can’t wait to show you my home! And introduce you to Mito-san! There are some really fun things we could do!” Gon says, grinning up at them.

“It’ll almost be like old times,” Leorio adds with a chuckle. He squints up at the sky, the glare of the sun bouncing off his glasses. “Now it’s just that brat Killua missing. Heard from him lately?”

Gon nods. “When I called last week, he said he was near some mountains. Didn’t tell me exactly where, though,” he answers. That call had been sadly cut short since the signal wasn’t really too good where Killua was. He puts on a smile and takes both of their hands into his own. “Come on! I’ll show you my house!”

“Alright, alright—oi, slow down a bit, would you?” Leorio says, grumbling as Gon pulls them both along.

“Maybe you _are_ as old as Killua says,” Kurapika teases.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Yeah, hurry up, old man!” Gon says, laughing.

Leorio gives him a pained look. “You too, Gon? Really? How you both wound me.” He fakes being dramatic by closing his eyes and pressing his free hand over his forehead.

Kurapika rolls his eyes. “Quit being such a big baby.”

They talk as they make their way up the hill, catching up on all the things they’ve missed. Leorio and Kurapika fill him in on a few things they encountered on their way to the Dark Continent—which had involved a lot more politics than Gon had expected, and it makes a few fumes leak from his ears as he tries to process all of it. Leorio shares his experiences about medical training under Cheadle, and Kurapika tells him cute stories of a little prince named Woble. He tells them about what it’s been like on Whale Island so far, but he can’t help but feel as though it isn’t as grand as the rest of them, putting their lives on the line, when he’s stuck on an island where it only ever switches between summer and rainy season.

By the time they make it to his house, it’s already half past three in the afternoon. He introduces his friends to Mito, and she tells them how she already recognizes them from all the stories Gon’s told and all the pictures he keeps.

“Thank you for taking care of Gon,” she tells them with a bright smile. “I know he can be a handful sometimes, but I’m glad he’s found such good friends.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Leorio says, grinning down at Gon. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“You’ve raised a really good kid,” Kurapika says. “He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

Gon blushes, feeling embarrassed by their words, but he beams back up at them.

“Gon, why don’t you bring them up to the guest room while I finish up here? I’ll prepare you guys some snacks,” Mito says, and Gon nods, already turning to the direction of the stairs.

“Please, you don’t have to bother—” Kurapika starts to say.

Mito cuts him off, “Nonsense. You two are my guests, and you’ve come from a very long trip. Some snacks and good rest will be good for you.”

Kurapika seems to still, the tips of his ears turning pink. It’s a little funny, Gon thinks, to see someone, or _anyone_ , really, to cause Kurapika to falter like this. “Um—thank you.”

Leorio hides a snicker behind his hand. “She got you, didn’t she, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kurapika tells him, and Leorio only laughs a bit louder.

Gon grins. He’s really happy to have them around.

* * *

“Gon,” Kurapika says, eyeing him warily. “What are you doing?”

He takes another fistful of sand, and places a finger to his lips. “I’m covering Leorio’s body in sand,” he whispers, hoping that Leorio doesn’t hear and wake up. Thankfully, though, Leorio’s always been a very heavy sleeper. He and Killua have pulled off many pranks that way.

Kurapika lets an amused smile curl around their lips. They close their book and settle it down on the blanket. “Do you mind if I help you with that?”

Gon grins and gestures him to come closer. With each of them on one side of Leorio’s sleeping form, as quietly as possible, they cup sand into their hands and sprinkle it over his skin. They’d gone swimming earlier, and Gon had convinced Leorio to let him sit on his shoulders as they battled the waves, _guardians of the sea,_ laughing as loudly as they could, wondering if the heavens could hear it. It must’ve tired him out, though, because a few minutes later, he’d slumped next to Kurapika on the picnic blanket, and was deeply asleep by the next.

So now Gon has taken it upon himself to do the only thing that would set this right: bury him in sand.

It takes them a couple of minutes, stopping now and then every time Leorio mumbles in his sleep, in between snores. Finally, when they’re finished, Gon walks over to the shore and picks up a seashell, and places it right on top of Leorio’s sand-buried chest. He grins satisfactorily, and Kurapika shoots him a thumbs up. Then he goes to sit on Kurapika’s other side, watching the glow of the sunset overtake their features. Red streaks the sky like the shine of their earring, blonde hair turning golden like daylight.

Kurapika lets out a soft exhale. “Gon,” they say quietly, almost nervously, voice tittering on an edge Gon can’t see. In their voice, he is reminded of how the sea is more honest to those willing to drown. “I’m…I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, when you were in the hospital. We’re supposed to be friends, and you needed me, but I was…I was too caught up in my own rage that I wasn’t thinking about anyone except myself and my clan.”

“It’s okay,” Gon tells him after a moment, soft and gentle, because it _is,_ he understands that Kurapika had things they had to deal with. Of course he does. He’s known from the beginning that getting the Kurta eyes back was important for them. “You were busy doing something important to you. It’s okay.”

“But you’re important to me, too, Gon,” Kurapika says. They glance at Leorio for a moment, something flickering through their eyes. Something familiar to Gon, cold and heavy curling around his chest, weighing him down until he gives it a name—guilt. “Leorio tried to call me so many times, but I never answered. I was too focused on the past, that I didn’t—I didn’t think about the people who were in my present. People who care about me, like you. And if you had—if you had died, Gon, I would’ve lost another person I loved without being able to do anything about it.”

Kurapika takes a deep breath. “I should’ve visited you, or tried to help. Like what Leorio was doing. Hell, he nearly even got himself elected as chairman just to help you. And I understand if you’re angry with me, or if you—”

“Kurapika, no! You’re wrong,” Gon tells him, insisting on it. “I couldn’t—I’m not mad, or anything. I do. Understand it, I mean.” He turns away, hugging his knees to his chest and looking at the sunset and its colors on the sea, blending and blending until they’re all mixed together and indecipherable. Connected. His voice is small when he speaks again, “You were blinded by your rage, that you didn’t—you didn’t think about how it would affect the people who care about you. I get it. I’m not angry, not when I—not when I know exactly what that feels like.”

“Gon,” Kurapika says, hesitant. They place a hand on Gon’s, squeezing it lightly. “What do you mean?”

Tears prick at his eyes. He shudders, letting out a breath.

“When we were fighting the chimera ants,” he begins, wincing and biting his lip. “I said some really awful things to Killua.” Gon sniffs, tasting the salt on his lips. It’s like lead in his mouth, these words that he forces out. Once he speaks them, the realer they become. “I’m afraid that he hates me now. That deep down, he hates me, but he won’t—he won’t say it. I hurt him really badly, and I—”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Kurapika says, and Gon wonders how they can sound so sure, when everything is crumbling down. “He might still be hurt, but he doesn’t hate you. I don’t think Killua ever could.” They squeeze Gon’s hand again in reassurance, in comfort. “And it’ll take some time to heal, and you’ll need to talk about it, but he doesn’t hate you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t want that to happen,” Gon confesses, feeling something raw in his chest, a cut bleeding open, the wrong sutures splitting wide. “I don’t want him to think that I don’t need him, or that I don’t want him by my side, because I _do,_ and I miss him, but I know that I had to—I had to do it, because I—”

“You didn’t want him to get hurt,” Kurapika finishes for him. The way they’re looking at Gon tells him that he knows what it means, what it implies, that they’ve seen it firsthand the same way Gon has. This special kind of ruin, of destruction that they carry with them. “Because you care about him, and you didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Gon nods slowly. “Yeah…yeah.” He thinks about Pitou, and how he’d known from the start that this is a battle he might not survive. How he’d known Killua would follow him to hell if he asked, because he’d do the same. How he’d told Killua to stay out of it, that _this meant nothing to him,_ because this was Gon’s fight, and he didn’t care what the consequences were. He didn’t care about what he would lose, or what consequences he might have to face. _Because he hated himself,_ and this was the only way he knew how to do it.

“He shouldn’t have to—it was my fault. He shouldn’t have to pay for what I did.”

“Killua doesn’t hate you,” Kurapika repeats more firmly, but gently still. “And neither could I, if there’s ever reason that leads you to believe I do. It will take time, Gon, lots of it. But I’m sure that whatever has happened between you two is nothing compared to what you’ve already faced together. It’ll be alright.”

“But how do you know? How can you know that for sure?” Gon asks them, looking at Kurapika, and he wishes for that stability that they seem to carry with them, for the composure. How can they know something like that to be true? How can they be so sure of it?

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Gon,” they admit, guilt tracing their tone. “I’ve bargained my life too many times to count. I’ve hurt more people than I know. And I’ve done some really terrible things. But even then,” they say, “someone told me that I wasn’t alone. That I never really was, and that I could always count on them when I needed it. That they wouldn’t _ever_ give up on me, no matter what I did.”

They glance at Leorio for a moment, then back to Gon. “Neither of them will admit it, but,” they say, “Leorio and Killua are alike that way. They care too much, for people like us. They don’t give up on people they care about. I had to learn that the hard way. And you must know that, too. You’re Killua’s best friend, aren’t you?”

 _Killua’s best friend._ Sometimes, he wonders if he even deserves to call himself that.

But Gon doesn’t linger on that thought too closely, preferring instead to take a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says, because even if he isn’t Killua’s best friend, nothing could ever change the fact that Killua is his. “Maybe it really is for the best, that we aren’t together right now. I still have a lot of things to think about.”

Kurapika nods. “And when you both feel ready, it’ll be good for you two to see each other again.”

“You think so?” Gon asks.

They smile. “I know so.” They squeeze Gon’s hand again. “And no matter what,” Kurapika continues, “you’ll never have to prove anything to me. I will love you, no matter what. Okay?”

Gon nods, his smile wobbly as tears fill his vision. “Okay.” He leans over to wrap Kurapika in a tight hug, and they stay like that for a long time, comfort in the shape of a friend.

Leorio snorts loudly a few minutes later, and jolts in his sleep. He groans, and Gon widens his eyes at Kurapika, knowing immediately what’s going to happen next. He stifles a laugh behind his hand, waiting.

Leorio grunts, blinking his eyes open. From the looks of it, he tries to move his arm, but finds himself unable to. He blinks again and looks down at himself properly, eyes going impossibly wide at the realization.

“ _Goooooon!”_ Leorio yells, and Gon can’t help it—he laughs loud and bright, good enough to erase all the tears he’d let fall earlier. Kurapika laughs too, hiding their smile behind a hand, watching Leorio struggle.

“It wasn’t just me! Kurapika helped, too!” Gon exclaims, and he yelps when Kurapika tackles him into the sand, giggling as he’s smothered with tickles. “Kurapika, noooo! I thought we were partners in crime!”

“Mafia bosses work alone, Gon! Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?” Kurapika says with a wide grin, and Gon laughs even more, even after Kurapika ceases tickling with him. His cheeks hurt from laughing.

“Well, I guess I’ll just lie here forever then,” Leorio says, half-defeated, which earns a snort from Kurapika. “I’ll have to give up my dreams of healing millions of people and saving lives! I’m the sand guardian now!”

“Guardian of the sand!” Gon says cheerfully, taking a seat next to Leorio.

“But seriously, though, you two _will_ help me out once we have to leave, right?” Leorio asks, and Gon laughs again when Kurapika immediately shakes their head in a resounding _no._ He groans. “Some friends I have.”

“But you love us!” Gon says, grinning. “Me and Kurapika! Even Killua!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leorio says, rolling his eyes. But there is a fondness that lingers in the way he looks up at them, eyes shining under the last few rays of the sun. “I guess I do.”

* * *

Days later, after Leorio and Kurapika return from a walk on the beach (Gon watches with glee as they return with hands held together between them, pink dusting their cheeks), Leorio catches Gon in front of the house, working on the birdhouse.

“Let me help?” Leorio offers, crouching down, and looking a lot happier than Gon’s ever seen him. There’s a sparkle in his eyes, glinting against the sun, cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink.

“I’ll go help Mito-san with dinner,” Kurapika says, smiling at them. If their gaze lingers longer on Leorio, then Gon doesn’t mention it. “I’ll see you two later.”

“See you, Pika!” Gon calls out, before grinning widely at Leorio, who seems to know immediately what’s on his mind, and blushes even more furiously.

Leorio coughs. “So, uh—what exactly are you doing here?” he asks.

Gon doesn’t stop smiling. “Making a birdhouse,” he answers. “I want to hang it next to my window.”

He nods, taking a look at the base Gon had made a few days ago. “I could help get you started on the walls,” Leorio tells himself. “I’ve had to build a few things on my own a couple of times before. I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.”

“Thanks,” Gon says gratefully. He hands Leorio pieces of wood, and gets started on working on the front of the birdhouse himself.

They work in silence for a few minutes, the chirping of the birds and the swaying leaves of the trees as their background, a gentle breeze on their skin. Occasionally, either them will use the hammer, and turn into a constant beat to listen to. Gon, for all the fast-paced highlife adventures he’s been on, has learned to treasure moments like these. A little slow, but steady, the way time moves when you’re not looking, or expecting it to slip away from you. In those moments he finds a peace he didn’t know he was looking for, without rush, without pressure, growing at his own pace. Time can be gentle when it knows you aren’t watching; time can be generous when it wants to be. Nothing ever truly stays, but it’s nice to watch things slow down, if just for a moment or two.

“I’ll admit,” Leorio says suddenly, “I didn’t expect you to be one for things like this.”

Gon tips his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Leorio shrugs. “You’ve always seemed so… _active_ , you know? Like, whenever you talked about Whale Island, I’d imagine you running around or jumping from tree to tree. I guess I forgot that you can be still, too, if you want to be.”

Gon smiles, a little toothy. “Well, yeah, usually, I’m moving around, or begging Mito-san to let me go outside. But,” he says, “I’ve been thinking a lot more lately, about things. And I think it helps to do that when I’m just sitting down, or gardening, or even building this. It helps me when my hands are moving, but the rest of me can still think.”

Leorio nods, a smile of his own gracing his lips. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he tells Gon. “You sure grew a lot when I wasn’t looking, huh?”

“I’m almost as tall as Kurapika now!” he says proudly.

Leorio laughs. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But I meant you seem, I dunno, more _mature_. Like you’re really figuring things out, even stuff I didn’t have to think about at fourteen. You know?”

Gon isn’t like a lot of kids, he knows. He runs around and trouble finds him before he can even blink. He’s got heightened senses, can jump higher than average, and he heals bones faster than they’re supposed to. He’s not—he’s not _normal,_ not really. But that’s not a bad thing. He’s just a little different, a little faster. He’s had a lot of bad things happen, and he’s made too many mistakes, but at the end of it, he’s just a kid.

A kid who’s still growing up.

“Yeah,” Gon says finally, after a moment. “I think I know what you mean.”

“You know, if you ever need someone to talk to,” Leorio tells him, voice soft. “I’m always right here, okay? You can always tell me anything. Hell, if I’m not with you, you can always blow up my phone and I’ll answer. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Gon says, grinning, and that seems to soothe Leorio. He walks over to where his friend is, and wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Leorio returns the embrace, holding him tightly. “And thank you, Leorio. You’re a really, really good friend.”

“Glad to hear it, squirt,” Leorio says, ruffling Gon’s hair. He squeaks and laughs, which only causes Leorio to pick him up and throw him into the air.

By the end of the day, the birdhouse’s four walls are completed, and all that’s left is missing is the roof. Gon knows he couldn’t have done it without Leorio. That’s the best part, Gon realizes, of doing anything at all—doing it with friends. Doing things _together._

* * *

#5: Leorio

_for always being there for me_

#6: Kurapika

_for understanding_

* * *

On the day that Leorio and Kurapika leave, Gon heads down to the docks with them, hands linked on either side, swinging between their bodies as they walk. The boat is scheduled to leave in ten minutes, and Gon feels a hole growing in his chest the closer they get.

“You’ll come visit again soon, right?” Gon asks in front of the boat. “There’s always a place for you here if you want to come by!”

Kurapika smiles. “Of course we will,” they say, voice like honey, as warm as the sun above them. “Your home is a lovely place, Gon. I’d love to come back again, even just for you.”

“And it goes the other way, too, you know,” Leorio says, placing a hand on Gon’s shoulder. “Come visit us any time! We’ve got a spare room in the apartment for whenever you want to swing by. It’d be nice to have a friend around.”

“Please send our thanks to your aunt for letting us stay,” Kurapika adds, just as the horn sounds—the signal that the boat will be leaving soon.

Gon nods. Then, with tears filling up in his eyes, he pulls them both into a hug. “I’m really going to miss you guys,”

“We’re going to miss you, too,” Kurapika murmurs, a hand on Gon’s back. “You’ll take care of yourself, okay? Let yourself grow, there’s no point in focusing too much on the past.”

“But don’t grow _too_ much, you hear?” Leorio says, voice thick and shaky, clearly trying to stop himself from crying. “Next time I see you, you better not be taller than me!”

Gon laughs. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” Leorio says. He squeezes Gon one more time before letting go. He takes Kurapika’s hand. “We’ll see you around, Gon.”

“Bye!” he says, as both of them climb aboard. Gon waves to them as they go, smiling as they wave back, and even as he feels the pang in his chest, he knows not to fear anything—because no matter where they all go, no matter how far they are from each other, they will always be together. After all they’ve done together, they’ve found homes in each other’s hearts.

As he walks back home, he stops to check on the little tree he’d planted a few months ago. There are small fruits growing now, little green ones, shaped a little like a star, and in a few weeks time, he’ll be able to pick them. He wonders what they’ll taste like.

Gon smiles, and watches a bird soar in the air, side by side with another. It shoots up in the sky, waiting for its partner, before chirping and flying quickly again, the two of them keeping pace with one another. He doesn’t know where he’d be now, if it wasn’t for his friends. He’s forever thankful for them, and hopes that they know it.

* * *

“Can I fish with you?”

Gon startles at the voice, blinking when he doesn’t find anyone attached to it. He looks around, peering around him from where he sits on the branch of the tree—but he finds nothing.

“Hey! Can you hear me? I’m down here!” the voice says again.

Gon looks down. There, at the edge of the lake, stands a girl with bright orange hair and green eyes, right about his age, holding a fishing rod of her own. The only other kid on the island. He recognizes her immediately.

“Oh! Hey, Noko!” he greets, using his free hand to wave at her. “What did you say earlier?”

She crosses her arms. “I said, can I fish with you?”

“Oh,” Gon says, a little surprised. As the only two kids on the island, he and Noko were put together to play sometimes, but they’ve never really connected all that well. He’s not really sure what she wants exactly, but he’s never one to turn down a chance to help. “Okay! Give me a sec, I’ll come and help you up.”

Gon sets his fishing rod carefully against the tree, and hops down to the lower branches, before reaching the edge of the lake. He offers her a hand as they hop along the rocks to get to the base of the tree. They’ve spent many afternoons together that Gon knows that she can climb just fine on her own, but he still reaches the top before she does.

He turns to her, curious. “You’re not planning on catching the Master of the Swamp, are you?”

Noko shakes her head. “Only you and your father have been able to do that.” She takes a seat on the branch, not too close to the edge. Gon sits next to her as she sets her line down into the water below. She shrugs. “It was getting a little lonely fishing by myself, that’s all. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not!” Gon says, holding onto his own rod. He knows how sturdy his own is—he’s used it for things more than just fishing. “It’ll be more fun this way.”

Noko nods. She looks a little different from what he remembers, Gon realizes. A little more grown up, just like him. Back straighter, taller, face a little more defined. It hits him a little then—that he’s not the only one who changed, after all this time. Whale Island didn’t become stagnant just because he left.

“We were the only kids on this island growing up,” Gon mentions quietly, careful not to speak too loud to disturb the nature around them. “We have that in common, don’t we?”

She smiles slightly. “I guess we do,” she says. Then something changes in her expression, a little more somber, and Noko sighs, twisting her rod in her fingers. “You know, to be honest, I was a little jealous when you left.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to leave, not as badly as you did. But I thought you were lucky, anyway, that you were going out there into the world. That you would go places and meet new people. Personally, I’m content right here, I don’t really feel the need to leave, but sometimes, it made me wonder…what it would be like, if I left, too,” she confesses, smiling a little. “It’s just that—now, you know people outside of this island. You have friends. _Real_ friends. People who come over to the island, and you get to have fun with them and laugh. Not kids you got stuck with because you were the only ones the same age.”

Noko huffs out a breath. “You don’t have to think too hard about it, or try to make me feel better. I just wanted to say it, I guess. That’s what I think.”

“Oh,” Gon says simply. It’s a lot to take in, and Noko seems pretty determined in not looking his way, instead choosing to focus on her fishing rod in front of her. “Well,” he says. “Then I guess it’s time we become real friends, don’t you think?”

She turns to him, surprise written all over her features. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll get to know each other this time! Like, our favorite colors, or favorite food. We’ll say hi when we pass each other on the street, and we can hang out whenever we’re free,” Gon offers with a grin. “And maybe I can introduce you to my other friends, too! That is, if you want to.”

Pink spreads on her cheeks, and she turns away, but Gon can see that there’s a smile on her face. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Great!” Gon says with a toothy grin. He holds his hand out for her to shake. “Here’s to being real friends!”

Noko smiles and takes it. “Here’s to being real friends.”

“So,” Gon begins. “What’s your favorite color?”

* * *

When Killua calls, it’s a little after dinner and Gon’s about to go to bed, but he answers it anyway, his heart in his throat. They haven’t been able to call each other for the last two weeks because Killua had broken his phone while trying to teach Alluka to skateboard, so Gon’s excited to hear from him.

“ _Killua!”_ Gon says loudly, already feeling a smile growing on his face. “Hey! How are you?”

There’s a bit of static from the other end, and Killua’s voice is choppy when he speaks. “—ello? Gon? Can you hear me? Hello?”

“Yes, yes, I can hear you!” Gon answers, giddy as warmth spreads all over him. He always likes talking to Killua, and hearing his voice. It’s comforting, in a way that he can’t explain, that has something to do with how his proximity to Killua somehow manages to equal how safe and happy he feels. “How are you?”

“Good,” Killua answers, and already Gon can feel something is off with his tone. A little hoarse, tired, like he hasn’t been sleeping all that much. “Alluka and I went to a festival yesterday for her birthday. It was the first time she got to see some fireworks, so it made her really happy. She got to try some candy apples, too. Guess she’s got a sweet tooth as much as I do.”

“That’s great to hear,” Gon says, trying not to let his concern show all too much yet. “But that was how Alluka is, and you know I’m always glad to hear how she’s doing. But Killua, I was asking how _you_ were doing.”

There’s a moment of pause on the other end before Killua sighs, resigned. “That obvious, huh?”

“No, I just know what your voice sounds like,” Gon tells him simply, sitting up properly on his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest. “I’ve heard you tired before, Killua, and it’s what you sound like now.”

Another bit of rustling, the sound of a door closing. A howl of the wind, and some cars going by—Killua must be outside, in a city again. Gon wonders if he could measure the distance between them like currency, spending it to see how much closer he could get until they wouldn’t have to talk through a phone anymore. Spending it all too much in one go, until he doesn’t have any left and he’s forced to leave.

“It’s just…” Killua says with another sigh, and Gon can hear it clearly now that Killua isn’t trying to hide it—the inflections of exhaustion, muted corners, heavy syllables making up for dragged tones. “Promise me you won’t freak out, okay? Everything’s fine, I swear, and we’re safe. You don’t have to worry.”

“Killua, asking me to promise not to freak out is already making me worry,” Gon says, half a nervous laugh, taking a glance outside the window. The stars are bright tonight, twinkling up at the sky. He sits by it, the wind cool on his face. “But I’ll try not to. I promise.”

Killua waits a moment before speaking again. Something hangs in the balance, something heavy and weighted, and Gon’s afraid of it dropping. “I think Illumi might be on our trail again,” he says, and it strikes Gon’s heart, to hear Killua sounds so small, so _afraid,_ and he curls his fists together, wishing so badly that he could be where Killua is now, to tell him _I’m here,_ and to hold him as physical reassurance of it.

But he isn’t, so he’ll have to make do with his words.

“I don’t—I don’t really have solid evidence, or anything. But a week ago, Alluka and I were in a market, and I swear I saw him, Gon. Long hair and pale limbs. They were turned away, so I couldn’t see his face properly, but I _know_ what he looks like. And two days ago, I could feel eyes on me. I couldn’t tell who it was, or where they were coming from, but we were being watched, I know it.” Killua takes a shuddering breath. One, five, ten heartbeats pass in the silence, the distance feels like it's amounting higher and higher, doubling and tripling before either of them can stop it.

“He’s…I don’t know what he’s planning, but there’s no way I’m ever letting any of them near Alluka and Nanika,” Killua says, barely even above a whisper, but his resolve is greater than anything Gon could put into words. Something he can only hear in the silence. “I promised to keep her safe, and I will. Of course I will. Because I can’t let them lock her up again, I can’t ever let that happen, and I’d die before it does, but sometimes it’s all just so—” His voice breaks, a sharp intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“I’m just—” Killua says, voice small and helpless and fragile. “I’m fucking terrified, Gon.”

“Oh, Killua,” Gon says, and something throbs in his chest, at the sound of Killua so defeated—Killua, who never backs down from a challenge, who stands tall and strong, always so sure of himself, never one to crack under the pressure—and he wishes even more strongly that he could be more there for him. “You’re the best older brother there is, and I know your sisters love you more than anything. But—it’s okay to be afraid, too. You don’t have to be brave around me. It’s okay.”

There’s a sniffle on Killua’s end, and that’s how Gon knows that his best friend is crying, that it’s all too much for him.

“Killua, listen to me, okay?” Gon asks gently. “Illumi isn’t going to find you. No one in your family is. You’re safe. And even if they do, it’ll be okay, because you’re strong, so strong, and I know you’ll be able to protect them. And I know that Alluka wouldn’t go down without a fight, either. You’ll be okay.”

Killua remains quiet on the other end, save for a few sniffles, but that’s okay, Gon tells himself, because it means that Killua is taking his words into consideration. He’s listening. That’s what matters.

“Maybe…maybe you should go stay with Bisky for a while,” he says tentatively, offering up the idea. “It might help you feel safer to have her around, and in case something happens, she’ll be there to help you.” Because for all that Killua and Bisky seem to not get along, even Gon knows that there’s a bond between them deeper that either of them will care to admit. Under all the snark, Bisky’s grown fond of Killua, and Killua trusts her more than he’ll ever say.

Killua seems to be mulling it over. “That’s…” he begins to say. His voice is a little hoarse and he coughs, the sound a bit muffled. “Yeah,” he continues, a little more clearly. “Yeah. I think—that’s a good idea. Um, thanks, Gon.”

“Of course, Killua,” Gon says with a smile. He hopes it reaches him, the feelings of comfort and safety he tries to give out, in hopes that Killua will feel it. “Maybe she’ll even train you again!”

“That old hag better not try anything,” Killua says. He must be feeling a little better now, Gon surmises, if he’s saying things like that. Then, after a few moments, he speaks up again, a little hesitant. “What—what about you? Has your nen…?”

“No,” Gon answers, shaking his head even if Killua can’t see. He feels a little hollow in his chest at the admission, and a bit of frustration tips over in the back of his mind, but he reels it back in. It’s no good to let it wash over him now, not when he finally gets to talk to Killua. “I’ve been practicing my ten every day, like what Bisky told me to. Once, I tried to do ren, but nothing came out. It sorta feels like I’m just meditating all the time, since I can’t see any of my aura.”

“Oh,” Killua says—Gon knows that it isn’t pity in his voice, because Killua isn’t that kind of person. Something just a bit sad, and maybe lonely, too. “It’s…it’s been more than a year now, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says, not letting his voice shake, and looking straight up at the moon. It stares back at him. “Ne, Killua. This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other.”

Killua hums. “It is, huh?”

 _Why?_ Gon wants to ask. _Why can’t I see you, Killua?_ But it’s the question that leads back to the unspoken agreement—one they’d made back at the World Tree after going their separate ways. Gon wants to ask, if only just to feel the words out in his tongue, but in truth he already knows the answer—he’s spoken it to Kurapika, too, and he understands, more than anything, why they have to stay like this. Miles and miles apart, the distance a currency Gon will never have enough for.

It’s for them to _heal_ , to grow, on their own. Time apart, to fix all the mistakes in the moments that they had spent together.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Gon doesn’t ask him to visit, like he had to Leorio and Kurapika. He doesn’t tell Killua to come around just to see him, or make any promises of seeing him in the future. He doesn’t know how long this will take, this back and forth between them, hesitant steps over ice, too afraid to pull too hard, but even more terrified to see what happens if the other lets go completely.

“Is it night where you are, Killua?” Gon asks quietly, propping himself up properly next to the window, an arm leaning on the ledge. He gazed up at the twinkling stars, looks up at the brighter ones and knows well enough to call them planets instead.

“Yeah,” Killua answers, his reply just as soft. They must be in the same timezone, after all, or somewhere close to it. They might be a lot nearer than Gon expected, and that thought alone is enough to comfort him.

“So you see the moon too, Killua?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“It reminds me of you sometimes,” Gon says, a little dreamlike. Maybe it’s the way tonight seems gentle with them, careful not to be too loud, giving them a moment to settle down properly, that has him saying these things. “Because of your hair. You’re so bright sometimes, you know? And really pretty.”

Killua makes a sound at the back of his throat. “St-stupid!” he stammers out, and it makes Gon wish that he could see the way the blush paints its way on his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose and to the tips of his ears. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“But I’m just being honest!” Gon objects, laughing a little. “It’s true! I think you’re like the moon!” He feels it as a fact more than anything—because not a lot of things have been able to catch Gon’s attention so easily, but Killua has held it the longest.

“Shut up,” Killua says, a little muffled. “Why are you—why are you like this?”

“But you like me anyway, Killua, don’t you? That’s why we’re friends!” Gon grins at the phone.

“Yeah, and I think you’re stupid,” Killua says flatly, and Gon can easily imagine him rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. We’ll be getting up early if we wanna make it to Bisky’s place by afternoon tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Gon says. He feels a little sad that their time is up now, something tugging downwards in his stomach, but there’s always next week, he reminds himself. He looks up at the sky once more, and it feels as though the moon is smiling back down at him. “Good night, Killua.”

“Good night, Gon. I’ll call again soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Stay safe.”

The line goes quiet, and Gon sighs. Walking back over to his bed, he pulls the covers out before flopping onto it. He closes his eyes, but all he can see is Killua, bright and beautiful as ever, and a yearning fills his heart that he can’t fill.

* * *

#7: The sun

_for reminding me that there’s always tomorrow_

#8: The stars

_for always guiding me back home_

#9: The moon

_for being the same one that Killua sees too_

* * *

When morning comes, the sky still a pale blue over his head and the moon still with a faint shine, Gon heads over to the side of the house. The grass is wet with dew, the world only half-awake with stillness, with only the gentle rustle of the wind to sing a song. He stops at the tree he planted months ago, and finds that the fruit it bears is finally ripe enough for taking.

With careful fingers and steady pressure, he plucks one of them from the branches. A little star-shaped green thing, barely the size of his palm. Gon lifts it to his nose—it smells sweet, a little like honey, maybe. He really isn’t sure what to call it. Taking a bite, he learns that the taste is just as sweet, smooth on the tongue, the juice good enough to drink. It’s delicious, really, and he feels thankful to that woman who gave it to him, imagining her island, where there must be rows and rows of trees like this. He plucks more fruit from the tree, with plans to carry them back into the house for Mito and Abe to try.

Placing the fruits in a basket on the table, he thinks about making breakfast. Mito doesn’t seem to be up yet, and she’s seemed a lot more tired lately because of the fishing accident that had happened down at the harbor two days ago, so both she and Gon have been helping out the fishermen in any way they can. It’s the least he could do to help out here, and it’s been a while since he cooked a meal all by himself.

It takes him a bit of an hour to prepare all the food, and it’s a simple meal, really—milkfish with soup cooked the way Mito loves it, and fried rice with vegetables mixed into it. He prepares two cups of coffee for both his aunt and grandmother, and another of orange juice for himself. Just as he’s setting down the plates, he hears a door open and footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Gon?” Mito’s voice calls out. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, I just made breakfast!” he replies with a smile. She comes into proper view then, surprise coloring her features when she finds the table already filled with food.

“Oh, it smells amazing, Gon,” she says warmly, taking a seat. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

Abe joins them a little later, pinching Gon’s cheek when she learns of what he did, and he laughs, mouth stuffed with food as he tells them stories of what he’s been doing when he’s down by the docks. By the time they finish eating, the sun is fully shining through the windows, giving the room a yellow-glow warmth. He’s just about to clean up the dishes when Mito stops him, holding out something in her hands.

“This came in the mail yesterday while you were out,” she tells him. There’s a look in her eye, something significant he can’t quite pinpoint. She looks a little apologetic when she adds, “I meant to give it to you when you got back, but then I got called down by one of the neighbors, and it slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay, Mito-san,” Gon says, a small smile on his lips.

Gon reaches out to take it, feeling the envelope around his fingers, crisp and clean, but a little folded at the edges. When he reads what’s written, his eyes go a little wide, and his heart races.

It’s from Kite.

He opens the envelope quickly, unfolding the paper with fumbling fingers.

_Dear Gon,_ it says.

_It’s been a while since I heard from you, and I hope that you are safe and well. My team and I are planning an expedition in the northern area of the Kukan’yu Kingdom. There are reports of undocumented species in the area, and the trip is expected to last three to five months, at most. I know that you are exceptionally skilled when it comes to your surroundings, and that it would be an excellent way for us to catch up. That being said, this is an invitation for you to join us, if you’d like. You are not obligated to come, of course, and please feel free to write me your response and anything else you would like to talk about. It’s always good to hear from you._

_Kite_

Gon places the paper down. The excitement within him dies down, a little thrumming underneath his fingers and toes, down to his stomach and all the way to his knees. Mito looks at him expectedly, and already he knows what his answer has to be.

“It’s Kite,” he tells her, and her eyes widen at the revelation. She must know what it means, too, what was asked within the letter. “They’re inviting me on a trip.”

“Oh,” she says, and Gon knows that she’s already bracing herself for the answer, and for what he will say in response. Still, she smiles, trying to mask the hesitancy in her voice when she asks, “So you’ll be going then?”

Gon shakes his head. “No,” he answers, a worn-down feeling in his chest at the admission, sinking, but understanding it anyway. “I’m not…I want to, but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

She looks surprised. Of course she does—because Gon is a little, too. He’d expected it to want it more, the adventure, the thrill, to be back on his feet, and _out there._ Because he can still remember how much he’d begged his aunt to let him go for the Hunter Exam, and how much he’d loved it—adrenaline coursing through his veins, on a tightrope never too far away from danger, always one step too close to death. But there’s a part of him that tells him no, that maybe hasn’t gotten over all that’s happened. That he isn’t ready, because the forest can still be all too much for him, and when he closes his eyes the shadows are still moving, and how he’s close to being okay, but not fully prepared. He doesn’t have his nen back yet, either, and he’s trying to get himself to start getting used to the idea that maybe he never will. He can’t leave yet, he’s not yet done, and he’ll stay right here until he is. Growing takes time, after all. And Gon’s never been one to do things halfway.

“Are you sure?” Mito asks him, her words careful, as though she is on a minefield and there are bombs all over. But there aren’t any, and she doesn’t need to fear anything.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Gon says with a final nod. He folds the paper and places it back into the envelope. He’ll write back to Kite later. Then he smiles right up at her, grinning widely, and says, “I’ll be going outside now. I’m gonna finish the roof of the birdhouse.”

After a moment, she smiles. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll be heading down to the market later. Do you want me to get you anything?”

He hums, putting a headband on to keep his hair out of his eyes. “Some paint, please, if you can find any.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“Nope, I’m good!” Gon says, and then he’s out the door, walking over to the shed. A bird flies overhead before landing on top of a tree. It chirps happily at Gon, and he smiles back. He doesn’t really feel all that restless anymore.

* * *

#10: Kite

_for showing me that_

_there’s always more to know_

#11: The tree

_for growing with me_

* * *

_Dear Killua,_

_I finally got to taste the fruit from the tree I planted today! It was really sweet, and they’re shaped like stars. I think you would’ve liked them!_

_Here’s a seed from the tree. Plant it for me somewhere?_

_Love,_

_Gon_

* * *

It’s tricky, how quickly time passes. Sometimes, it is almost as though the days are blending all together, falling away too quickly like dominoes. The seconds are trickling by, the minutes even quieter, turning into hours into days into weeks into months. It happens without Gon knowing it—right under his nose as he works away, focusing on different things, letting it slip right by him without any warning. A thief in the night, except all they steal are the moments held up by shaky hands learned to become steady. Gon doesn’t really mind, not really, and it isn’t that he feels like he’s losing a lot—what is there to lose, when the sunrise is beautiful to watch every morning? When he has seen so many of them, he has watched thousands of sunsets, the descent into and the rise from the horizon, but they all look so different from each other every time? The same thing, but always different in their own ways. He tries to put each one to memory, to save it for later in his pocket, to rewatch them on the days that find him a little more sad than usual.

He’ll take the way the sun looks through the trees, filtering right through the leaves, the dew on the leaves before morning fully wakes. The rocks on the dirt path that lead home bound, the sheets that hang on a clothesline, pristine and clean, the wind singing to him gently. The sound of Mito in the kitchen, the look in Abe’s eyes when she sits on the steps to the house, perfectly in peace. The call of the fishermen coming in with their nets, the distant sounds of a boat arriving on the island. The call of the birds, the vibrant thrum of the forest, the song of the sea. He’ll take all of these things, _to remember,_ he tells himself, commit it to memory and take it with you wherever you go.

It’s a bit funny then, how he can remember all these things, in stark detail, but most of what happened that night in East Gorteau is a blur. It fills him with guilt, that he doesn’t even know what happened to the others. To the people he calls his _friends._ Did the plan go exactly as they hoped? What went wrong? How did these scars happen, these bruises? How much did they hurt?

He doesn’t know. No one tells him, and he is left without answers.

Instead, what memories he has of that night has turned into nightmares, curling and slithering into his dreams when his guard is down, when his eyes are closed in the dark. He sees Pitou, tall and proud but afraid for the first time in their life, and he sees Kite, no longer breathing, not alive, not here, dead, dead, dead, and he sees Killua, bright and blue, a light in the dark, a reminder, and he is screaming Gon’s name, but it is too late.

It’s always too late.

Maybe these nightmares will never leave him. These memories won’t ever be erased. He will never lose this feeling of—of _weakness,_ of guilt and shame, when he remembers what happened, but it’s what he expected. Some ghosts will never stop haunting him, just the same way he must learn to live with them instead. These scars along his heart, traced by his lifeline, they will never disappear, not fully. They will serve to remind all that he had come close to losing—this _life_ he lives is a testament to it. Not everybody gets a do-over, a second chance to make things right, but here he stands now—alive and breathing and growing. Not everyone gets to have that.

And if he must grow, then he has promised to do it well. He owes that much.

It is not some external force that allows him to be here, and Gon knows it. It’s not fate, nor is it divine intervention that leads him to where he is now, that allows the heart in his chest to beat, for his lungs to breathe. It isn’t heaven, and not yet hell, not quite the answer to the good men go when they fall asleep. It isn’t by chance, or a miracle, or extremely good luck. It is far from that.

It is because he was loved, and that love is what saved him.

Because Killua loves Gon, and Gon loves Killua. Because Killua had made it just in time, had arrived in the darkness Gon was drowning in, and had come to save him, glowing like _light_. Because for a moment Gon had hesitated, and remembered that there was someone else. Because Killua had brought Gon back from the brink of death, and carried him to safety. Because Killua had cared enough to run miles and miles to save him. And it may not be romantic, but it is _love_ , in all the ways that it can possibly exist, true and real, and wholly and fully. They care for each other, with all the sharp edges attached, with all that it means to care about someone without being afraid of the drop.

And it’s because of all of it that Gon will never be able to thank Killua enough. He will never be able to stop making up for it.

He can only hope that Killua can forgive him for what he did. There’s still so much to be said between them, and Gon hopes that one day he will be able to find the words for it. And that Killua will let him say them.

Until then, this is how they will live: separated, the distance of oceans between them, but hearts still connected.

* * *

It happens like this:

On the morning of Gon’s birthday, he rises with the sun. It feels like any other normal day, with the new daylight there to greet him. He lies there in the quiet, relishing in the peacefulness of it all, his bed warm and comfortable under him. He almost doesn’t want to get up at all; he feels like he could stay here like this forever, probably, lying in the stillness, as the world moves around him. It’s one of the rarer moments where Gon can stay like this: when his limbs are not found restless, when he doesn’t feel the need to experience all things at once. He breathes, lazy for once, in and out, measured breaths puffing into the spring air.

As expected, it doesn’t last too long. He feels the house come alive around him—creaking floorboards, the clang of pots and pans, the hymn of breakfast being made. Birds chirp a little more loudly, the seventh hour chiming in with warmer rays, an orange sort of hazy feeling. With a sigh, Gon sits up, rubbing at his eyes, already ready to begin the day. His eye catches on the ocean through his window—and he finds that the longing for adventure is still there, a reassurance, if not a little more muted, but persistent still.

Mito comes into his room then, smiling at him, and he feels like he is four again, and she’s come to wake him up and call him for breakfast. She walks over to him, her steps light with distant thuds, seating herself at the edge of his bed, her hands immediately finding his, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Happy birthday, Gon!” she says, in a way that only a mother ever could, carrying it with the weight of another year gone, but light for him to be free about. “There’s a cake waiting for you downstairs.” Mito grins, knowing it will excite him.

“Really?” he says, and in an instant he’s up and ready to go. She laughs, light and breezy, not chiding him about making his bed, and Gon races down the stairs. “Cake! Cake! Cake!”

Abe chuckles at his entrance. “Happy birthday!” she says to him, and gestures at the dessert that’s laid before him on the table. It’s chocolate with strawberries on top, decorated with frosting to spell out his name, with little drawn-out frogs in the corners. Gon absolutely _loves_ it.

“Thank you!” he says to both of them, beaming, full of nothing but gratitude. Cake wasn’t easy to come by growing up because of how expensive ingredients used to be before Mito started fully helping out Abe financially, since she had to take care of Gon, so he’d learned to be content with a small cupcake, or even in the lowest of times, simple bread. But even if it’s different now, and they can bake all kinds of things whenever they want to, Gon remains grateful for the effort. “I love it!”

Mito smiles at him and ruffles his hair. “You can have the cake _after_ you eat your breakfast, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he says with a mock-salute, before starting on the pancakes and the syrup.

By the time he’s finished half the cake, Mito tells him to put it away to save it for dinner, and he hears his phone ring from upstairs. She nods at him before he runs back up to his room, scavenging around before finding his phone underneath his covers.

“Gon! Happy birthday!” Leorio says as his voice comes through the empty static. “Man, what did I just say about growing up? It’s like you didn’t even try to listen to me!”

It causes him to laugh, a warm, bubbly feeling. “Don’t worry, Leorio! I’m sure you’re still taller than me!” he says, biting his cheek to stop him from smiling any wider. It’s always nice to hear from his friends, especially today, like watering that garden of connections that Mito had talked about. He wonders if Killua will call, too.

“I better be,” Leorio half-grumbles. There’s a sound from Leorio’s end, a voice saying something. “Kurapika says happy birthday, too. They wanted to talk, but they’re just about to leave. Says they’ll call you later, that alright?”

“Of course!” Gon tells him. “And tell them I say thank you!”

“Will do. Oi, Kurapika, Gon says thanks!” Leorio shouts, and it makes Gon smile again, when he remembers just how loud his doctor friend can be. “Anyway, how have you been doing? Got any plans today?”

Gon hums. “No, not really,” he answers, still tasting the cake on his tongue. It was really sweet; Killua would’ve liked it. “Maybe I’ll go swimming. Or I could try to convince Mito-san to go on a picnic with me.”

“I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Leorio says, sounding convinced. “It’s your day, after all. Anything you say goes.”

“I wouldn’t want to abuse it,” Gon says lightly. “It's a nice day to be outside. What’s it like there for you? What are you doing today?”

“Oh, today’s pretty free, actually. Once Kurapika comes home, I’m planning on taking them out for lunch,” he tells Gon, and it makes him happy to hear that—that Kurapika is letting love carry them into a better life where they let people care, and that Leorio is receiving just as much love in return, for all that they’ve both been through. “Might take a walk in the park, who knows? It’s easier to just see where our feet take us, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gon says, because he does know. It’s how he’s been spending most of his days, seeing where the wind will take him. That’s not to say he doesn’t have a goal—though he’d like to get his nen back first. He’s been meditating every day, and this time, _this time,_ he feels like he’s getting closer—he’s just short of it. But he’ll get there, to that flicker of aura that will open everything up again. He can feel it. “I’m really happy for you, Leorio.”

“Eh?” Leorio asks, confused. “What’s that for now? You’re the one with the birthday!”

Gon laughs. “No, it’s not that,” he says easily. “I’m just happy for you and Kurapika, that you found each other. You’re…you’re good for each other, and you make each other happy. I’m glad you have that.”

“Well, you have that, too, don’t you?” Leorio says, but it only makes him confused. “With Killua?”

Gon blinks. “What?” he blurts out, turning a little flustered. “Killua—we aren’t—I didn’t—”

“Woah, there, okay,” Leorio says slowly, and Gon can imagine him raising his eyebrows. “You and Killua aren’t…together?”

“No?” Gon says, already feeling the warmth in his cheeks at the mere _thought_ of it. “We’re just friends?”

“Huh, really? ‘Cause it kinda seemed like it, and when I was talking to Killua—” Leorio’s voice cuts off abruptly. “ _Oh._ Oh, I see. Okay. Yeah, the clouds just parted, the sky’s blue, I get it now.”

“What? What did you just get? Leorio?” Gon asks, a little helplessly and desperate, still confused. He frowns. “You’re not making any sense.”

“It’s nothin’,” Leorio waves him off. “Just a ramblings of an old man, as Killua says. Gah, I can’t believe I just said that. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find your own happiness, Gon. Romantic or not, doesn’t matter. As long as you’re happy, I’m sure.”

Gon feels as though it’s hopeless to try to ask any more, so he just lets the topic drop. Maybe it really _was_ just some old man ramblings. They talk for a little more, many stories about Leorio’s experiences about a few patients he’d encountered.

“Listen, I’ve got to go now, but you have yourself the best birthday you possibly can, alright?” Leorio says after a light chuckle. “I’ll be sure to call again soon.”

“Okay!” Gon says. “Bye, Leorio!”

The call cuts then, leaving Gon in a quiet room. He sits down on his bed, slumping forward. Looking out the window, Leorio’s words float back to him, and he wonders where Killua is now. How many miles are there between them at this moment? How long would it take to cross that distance? Will they ever even see each other again?

He pinches his own cheeks. Now’s not the time for any sad thoughts! It’s his birthday! He should be celebrating! With a huff, Gon dispels any more thoughts of distance and time and Killua. Standing up, he decides that he’s going to go swimming, after all. The sea looks nice today, clear and blue. He doesn’t think about what it reminds him of (a pair of eyes filled with its own sort of lightning), and heads downstairs to tell Mito where he’s going.

Gon doesn’t think about it again, but his resolve doesn’t last too long.

* * *

“I swear, that old hag is out to _kill_ me,” Killua says, sounding exasperated. “She’s always trying to get me to train non-stop, and when I’m not, she’s making me run these ridiculous errands that never seem to end. Do you know how many times I’ve had to go to jewelry shops? Or buy some bread and eggs, all the way to the other side of the town ‘cause she’s being picky? She made me look for towels, Gon! Towels! Does it _look_ like I know anything about towel fabrics?”

Gon laughs at that, even more so when Killua keeps on grumbling on the other end of the call. It’s late afternoon now, and Killua had called to send Gon his birthday wishes after he’d gotten back from his picnic with Mito. He’d been able to do ten cartwheels in a row, which was his achievement of the day, really, and even Mito had applauded him for it. They’d stayed in the meadow by the forest, filled with flowers getting ready to bloom.

“And not only that, but she’s absolutely taken with Alluka! Dotes on her all the time!”

“Eh? But isn’t that a good thing, Killua?” Gon asks.

“But that’s—it’s my job to spoil her!” Killua huffs, and Gon knows him well enough to imagine the way he crosses his arms, a blush spreading on his cheeks like a blooming rose. “I’m her brother!”

Gon laughs again, tipping his head back, his shoulders shaking. “Of course,” he teases. While he does find it amusing that this is what Killua’s annoyed about, Gon knows that this is also easily one of the many things he finds so admirable about Killua: how much he loves his sisters. He knows that Killua loves so fiercely and whole-heartedly, with his entire being and existence, despite how he’d grown up with such a severe lack of it. Or perhaps it’s _because_ of it, as though he is continuously trying to make up for what he doesn’t have. Like he is learning how to unfold his love, until it’s spilling out of him now without restraint, and there’s so much of it, overflowing and beautiful. And Gon had made himself promise that he would let Killua receive just as much in return, that he would feel all the love he thought he was missing. That he would do his best to make sure Killua knew just how much of the world he deserved, and how much Gon would do anything to give it to him.

He’s still trying to.

“It’s just—” Killua says, before breaking off. His voice loses the irritation he had held not too many moments ago, turning into something softer, a little unsure. “The other day, Alluka told me she wanted to start training nen.”

“Oh,” Gon says, blinking. “What did you say?”

“I told her that she didn’t have to,” Killua replies, but there’s more to it. “And then she said that she wanted to be able to protect herself and Nanika if she ever needed to, and that so that it would be easier on me, that I didn’t have to keep watching out for all of us.” He sighs, almost as though he’s waving a hand in the air. “And well, I’ve never really been good at saying no to her, so.”

“It’s a great idea!” Gon voices out, grinning. “And if it’s with Bisky, she’ll be amazing in no time! Bisky will take care of her, I’m sure of it.”

“She better,” Killua mutters. “We decided that we’ll be opening her nodes the natural way, not like what we did. It’ll take longer for sure, but I think it’ll be better for her and Nanika.”

Gon hums in agreement. “I wonder what her hatsu will be!”

“Yeah,” Killua says. “Anyway, how have you been? Aside from the birthday celebrations, I mean.”

Gon thinks to himself for a moment. “I’m good! Last week I discovered a new cave by the other edge of the beach, so it was pretty fun to explore! You have to swim pretty far, though, and it’d be pretty hard to get to if you can’t hold your breath too long,” he tells Killua. “But there’s this part near the end that has a hole on the ceiling, so there’s a certain time where the sun shines through it! It’s a good place to relax, I think.”

When Killua doesn’t reply immediately, Gon furrows his eyebrows in worry. “Killua?” he calls out apprehensively. “Are you still there?”

“Oh—yeah, sorry! I was just—just thinking,” Killua stammers, shaking himself.

He tips his head to the side. “What were you thinking about?”

Killua hesitates before speaking, his breath coming out in a slow exhale. “I was thinking that…that maybe you could take me there, one day.”

Gon’s eyes widen. He feels his heart jump right to his throat. “Really?”

“Not—not that I’m saying we’ll be coming to visit any time soon,” Killu clarifies quickly, but it does nothing to deter the way Gon’s heart stutters in his chest. “But maybe…maybe one day. In the future. You could show me, but only if you want to?”

“Of course I’d want to!” Gon exclaims, in the same streak of stubbornness that could cause kingdoms to crumble, not at all faltering with how a warmth spreads over his cheeks. It makes him feel like bursting—the acknowledgement that Kurapika was right all along, and that Killua didn’t hate him, that Killua still wanted to _see_ him. Even after how much Gon hurt him, how much they’ve both suffered, how much making up he has to do, Killua still wants to see him.

And Gon wants to see him, too, just as badly. How could Killua ever think otherwise? It’s been so long since they saw each other last, and Gon never wanted to pressure Killua into visiting if he didn’t want to, so he never intended on bringing it up—but now Killua’s saying that he might like to come again, one day, and that little sliver of hope is enough to last Gon for the next few years, if he’s being honest.

“Killua,” he says softly, as gentle as he can make it. “Did you think that I wouldn’t want to see you?”

It takes a moment before he answers. “Maybe,” Killua admits. “I thought that maybe—maybe it’s been so long that you didn’t mind it anymore. That you’d just be doing it out of courtesy if I asked.”

The need to prove Killua wrong burns hotly in his stomach. “I still want to see you!” he says, thinking that maybe if he says it loud enough, Killua will be able to hear it without the line connecting them, over the valleys and the mountains and the seas. He says it with the certainty that allows thunder to follow after lightning, for all the love he has for storms. “I’ll always still want to see you! I’ll always be happy to have you here, but only if _you_ want to be.”

“Idiot,” Killua says. “Of course I’d want to be with you.”

 _Then why aren’t we,_ he’s just about to say, until Killua continues on, “But—not yet. Like I said, maybe one day, if you’re still up for it. Will you be okay with that?”

“Yes!” he exclaims brightly. “Always, Killua! No matter what, I’ll still be happy to see you!”

“Jeez, you didn’t even _try_ to hesitate,” his best friend mumbles. “How are you always so honest about these things?”

“Because it’s you, Killua,” Gon says simply, because really, that’s all there is to it. He can speak his mind because he knows Killua will understand, as easy as that.

Killua groans. “Of course you’d say something like that, stupid.”

“Yeah, I’m stupid,” Gon says, but this exchange has happened so often that he knows that neither of them mean it. “But at least I’m not afraid of bugs!”

“That’s because they’re gross and slimy! How can you even _think_ of touching them?”

“They can be cute! Like frogs!” Gon argues, before falling into a pit of giggles. “But do you remember when we put all those worms on top of Leorio while he was sleeping? He wouldn’t stop yelling!”

“How could I possibly forget? That was the best day of my life!” Killua says, and then he does something that causes Gon’s heart to leap in his chest, to do a million somersaults—Killua laughs, a loud and earnest sound, and it’s devastatingly beautiful, maybe even the most wonderful thing Gon’s ever heard. It knocks the wind right out of his lungs, his knees turning weak, as though a flower had just bloomed in his chest, right into the spring of his heart. It’s something that only happens with Killua around, this feeling, this fuzziness, this warmth, and it’s funny, really, how _happy_ it makes him, maybe it could even be—

_Oh._

It’s love.

It’s love in the way it wasn’t before—the kind that wants him to pull Killua close and never let go, the kind that wants to take his hand and intertwine their fingers together, to hold up the way their palms are pressed together, and say, _look, look at how well they fit together, almost as if they were made that way. Look at what we could be, together._

And in that moment it is as though a million memories compress together to form a single, coherent, and indisputable thought: that Gon Freecss is in love with Killua Zolydck. He has always loved him, and always will, but this time it’s different. And looking back, at all the times he’s felt like this, like a freefall with no fear, warm and sunny because of his proximity to Killua, that he realizes—maybe he has been, for a long time. Maybe he’s loved Killua for years and years now, and this is when he’s finally realizing it.

(And he knows that love can be a scary thing sometimes, but Gon finds that he isn’t afraid. Not if it’s Killua.)

And he knows that it’s true, that it’s real, because when something happens, Killua is the first person he wants to tell. Isn’t that an indicator of love all on its own?

It feels _right_ in a way that he can’t explain it. Like this is how it’s always meant to be: for them to bump into each other, to become friends and form this unbreakable bond, one even nature can’t break, to fall in love so beautifully and tragically that this is where they are now. To love slowly but surely, like the way clouds are tinged in color as the day goes on. Like Gon was always meant to love Killua, and to choose to do so every day, over and over.

And there’s more to it than just the physical aspects, Gon knows. Because he loves Killua, in all that it means to love someone; he has seen the best of him and the worst of him, all the parts that are scarred and bruised, and he will pick up whatever’s left and cherish them. He has seen Killua vulnerable and angry, and knows what parts he keeps hidden, the good and the bad and the ugly. He knows that there are days that will catch Killua off his feet and treat him poorly, and that there are times when it will be too much and cause him to lash out. But that’s never stopped Gon, and he will love the way he was taught to: without ever holding back, because there has never been such a thing as too much love. He will make up for it this way, and show Killua all that he can. He loves Killua, because it’s this lightning boy who stayed by his side through all of it, and it’s him who Gon wants to stand next to even at the end of the world.

(Because when he’d stood there in front of Pitou, just about to give everything up, Gon had seen Killua, lightning blue in the darkness, and he’d given Gon something to lose.)

Suddenly, he understands what Leorio had meant, after all. It’s for the same reason that otters fall asleep holding hands, or why penguins give the prettiest pebble they can find to one another. This, and the undeniable space between them, one that they must cross in order to find their way to each other yet again, but only when their hearts are ready. In a thousand lifetimes, choosing Killua a thousand times over. And Gon will love Killua better, this time.

“Hey, Gon, Alluka and I are gonna head out for dinner now, but we can talk again later, if you want,” Killua says, and Gon’s not sure if it’s just a symptom of his recent revelation, but he thinks he hears a bit of hopefulness in Killua’s voice, matching exactly how he feels.

“Yeah, I’d like that, Killua,” Gon says with a grin. His heart is stuttering now, beating wildly, but he’s not afraid of what it means. “Tell Alluka I say hi!”

“Sure,” Killua says. “Talk to you later, then.”

“Bye!”

The line disconnects until all Gon’s left is with a beep, but this time he doesn’t feel as lonely as he did the other times. Now his heart is full of something, and he feels giddy knowing he can put a name to it. _Love._ He’s in love with Killua. He has been for a long time.

Gon wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight.

There hasn’t been one on Whale Island for years, Abe tells him, so this is a pretty special occasion. The entire island has prepared a festival just to celebrate the falling stars, and Gon’s excited to see how it’ll turn out. People have been buzzing about it ever since the announcement—apparently this is something that only happens every hundred years, so it’s one to watch out for. Gon’s only seen a meteor shower once before, back when he was with Killua and Bisky on Greed Island. It had been absolutely breathtaking, and he can’t wait to see one again.

By late afternoon, the market square is fully decorated with lanterns and lights strung on a line across the stalls, and the whole place is brightly illuminated. The game stalls are colorful and vibrant, those manning the booths calling out for people to try with wide grins on their faces. The smell of food is rich in the air, of all different kinds, and Gon’s mouth waters the moment he’s walked near enough to sense it. Most of the townsfolk had come to enjoy the experience with one another, and there’s a group of people singing and dancing in the middle of the square, laughing with wide grins. It’s the liveliest Gon’s ever seen it, and it fills him with joy from the top of his head right down to his toes.

He’s quick to join in on the fun—zooming through stalls and winning games, handing a stuffed toy he won over to Mito, and keeping another cat-shaped one to send to Killua. There’s a stall that lets people make beaded jewelry, and Gon makes two necklaces for Alluka and Nanika, tongue sticking out as he carefully and purposefully tries to pick out a design that each of them would like. He and Noko have a food-eating contest on who can eat twenty fish balls the fastest—Gon finishes first, but he treats her to another food stall anyway, and she wins him a goldfish from another booth in return. Gon helps other people win a couple games, too, mostly due to his accuracy in throwing things and ability to guess really well in trivia quizzes. Later in the night, he finds Mito once more, and drags her to the middle of the square for a partner dance. She’s a little reluctant at first, and it takes her a moment before she finally loosens up enough to sway along to the music with him, hopping around everyone else, dancing in beat with the tune to follow. They always did dance back when he was younger, the two of them, and this time is no different. In no time, both of them take center stage, moving swiftly and cleanly, and by the time the song ends, they take their bow and the people applaud for them, faces flushed by smiles wide.

Ten minutes to the meteor shower, an announcer calls overhead to locate nice spots to watch the stars, and the people disperse off to find their loved ones to watch with. Mito stays by the square, saying that she’ll look to see if Abe is around, and Gon heads over to the side of the hill, the grass long enough to tickle his legs.

To his surprise, he finds Abe there, too, eyes already on the sky above them, twinkling just as bright as the faint festival lights dance on her brown skin. Quietly, he takes the spot next to her, brings his knees close to his chest, and waits for the shower to begin.

It takes a couple of minutes before the first shooting star makes its way across the sky. Gon nearly misses it, but there it is, nearly too quick for him to have caught. It seems to be the trigger for all the other meteors—slowly, then all at once, meteors start filling the sky with their fall from grace, millions of them all at once. Stars coming raining down on them almost like a miracle, streaking the sky with color, and Gon watches, mesmerized by the way they fall from the heavens, a thousand messages for the humans below. It’s even more beautiful than he had imagined.

“Listen,” Abe says, in between his gasps of awe. “Do you hear them calling your name?”

Gon looks at her, then back up at the stars, straining his ears. He keeps his eyes on the constellations, at the celestial game of connect-the-dots. But for all that his ears can do, he doesn’t hear much over the whistle of the wind, and the song of the cicadas. But for a moment, he lets himself imagine it, the falling stars telling him to listen to what they have to say to him, _see what we can show you._

“Don’t forget to make a wish,” Abe adds a little later. “It’s important on a night like this, when there are so many of them.”

Gon nods fervently, but doesn’t close his eyes in fear of losing the sight right in front of him. _I wish,_ he thinks to himself, and he already knows what to ask for. It’s a little selfish of him, he knows, and he’s aware of the consequences of asking for too much, but he’s not denied of hope just yet. _I wish to love better,_ he thinks, because it’s all he can think of asking for, because it’s simply what it all leads to. To love better is to start with the person you hate, and so he has been relearning all the ways to love himself. And in truth, he doesn’t know if it’ll be possible to love more than he already did before, but he’d like to love better.

It’s simple, but it’s the truth, and it will have to be enough.

For a moment, he thinks of Killua, and how now he knows Killua wouldn’t be opposed to seeing each other once more. He doesn’t mind it if the day of their meeting is still months away from now, or even years (though he’d like it to be as close as possible), but just that it happens. He’d just like to see Killua once more.

The meteor shower ends all too soon, as the last shooting star twinkles out into the night sky. Gon remains in the silence, letting the cool air rest upon his skin, the grass blowing gently by his side. He didn’t get to ask, but he wonders for a moment if all his other friends had been able to watch the shooting stars, too. If Knuckle and Shoot had seen it and were reminded of a night when it was dragons instead of stars, falling randomly enough to injure them in a palace; if Ikalgo and Meleoron had looked up and remembered wishes from a different life. He wonders if they still feel that fear in their heart that it will all happen again, spinning wildly out of their control, too fast for them to handle.

It’s been a long time since then, but Gon is still trying to learn to not be afraid.

He’s gotten better at it, and the nightmares don’t come as easily as they did before. He can sleep peacefully most nights without worrying he’ll wake up in a dark forest, and he’s stopped grounding himself with guilt enough to know that the only way to move forward from his mistakes is to apologize and carry on forward. But the fear will forever remain in the back of his mind, the fright of learning there is no back wall to separate him from his own heart’s darkness, but it’s just a flicker and no longer constant, if only just to serve as a reminder of what he could lose in an instant.

So he closes his eyes, and tells himself that the shooting stars were something beautiful, and not made for ruin.

“Gon,” Abe says suddenly into the quiet, but her voice is light enough to step over the silence, dancing on top of it. “Whatever you wished for, it will come true.”

He opens his eyes to meet hers in confusion. As much as he wants to believe so, he knows that it isn’t really guaranteed. These stars, the ones that had just fallen, they are not cut from the same material as fate. They won’t will the universe to the shape that Gon asks for, just because they had fallen. There is no favor he could ever return that would amount high enough to warrant it.

“How do you know?” Gon asks when curiosity gets the better of him. Maybe it’s all things that Abe has seen in her age that had led her to say such things with so much certainty. Wisdom grows as age does, doesn’t it? “How can you be so sure?”

She smiles at him, a small one, the barest curve of her lips, but genuine nonetheless. “Because there aren’t many meteor showers around here,” she tells him, a little wispy. “Which makes it all the more special that this one happened to begin with.”

Gon opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t find it within him to object. He doesn’t want to sound rude to oppose, but he’s not really sure she’s right, either. Of course he wants to believe she’s right, and maybe he’s better off thinking that she is, but it’s with how Abe holds herself that he’s interested—relaxed, but more sure than anything.

“You asked for something beyond this island, didn’t you?” she asks, looking at him as though she already knows, and Gon’s eyes widen in surprise. “Then I believe when the time is right, you will be given the opportunity to go get it.”

His mouth turns dry, and Gon faces away, back to the sky. He exhales slowly, thinking of his wish. Then he thinks of Killua. Is it really so terrible, for him to want to see his best friend again after all that’s happened? Is it right of him to ask for it? What if he’s wrong, and it’s not at all like what it used to be? Of course they’ll be different people, but what if he’s changed too much? What if they both have?

What if Killua decides he doesn’t want to be with Gon after all?

Gon bites his lip before speaking once more, his voice soft. “But what if I lose him again? What if I lose myself?” he says shakily. “What if I mess up again and it makes things even worse and I can’t fix it?”

“You’ve already lost before,” Abe says, and it stings for him to hear it acknowledged by someone else besides himself. “But didn’t that teach you to not take things for granted? That’s all there is to losing, in the end—it teaches you not to be greedy. To savor what you have now, in case it is taken from you. Because sometimes it will be, and you will be left empty-handed whether you like it or not, and all you will have with you is the feeling of whether you’d cherished it enough.”

Gon listens for her words, but it takes a moment for them to properly sink in. He won’t let that happen again. He won’t make the same mistake twice—he knows better now than to even think about doing it. Maybe it’s true that he’ll slip up once in a while, but now that he knows to do better next time. He won’t be selfish, not anymore, not ever again if he can help it, and he won’t take any more that’s given to him. He and Killua, they’ll find the right footing for both of them, make sure they’re running at the same pace, standing on the same page. Gon will apologize, and then he’ll make up for it. He won’t mess up again.

“Okay,” he says, nodding with a newfound determination. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. I shouldn’t be afraid of that. It’ll be fine. And even if we’ve both changed, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It’s just new things to learn about each other, isn’t it?”

Abe smiles at him, full of warmth even in the chilly night air. “Yes,” she says. “That’s all there is to it.”

He nods again, before wiping the grass of his pants. He holds out his hand to help Abe up, careful enough to make sure she’s okay, and they both meet up with Mito at the square. She remarks happily about the meteor shower, and Gon is quick to agree, offering easy compliments complete with sound effects. Once they make it back home, he kisses both of them on the cheek before saying good night, and heads over to his room.

Maybe the night holds a little hope for them, after all. When Gon falls asleep, there is not a single shadow that follows him.

* * *

_Dear Gon,_

_This is something I heard once:_

_You don’t make homes out of people._

_You don’t, because when they leave, it will leave you homesick and sad, with a longing you cannot fill. It will leave you with arms that aren’t strong enough to hold roofs, your eyes as windows to remind you of sunny days long gone, with cracks along the faultlines of your veins, a heart with an unstable foundation._

_It’s really hard to live without a home, Gon._

_Sometimes, it’s like I want to walk into the ocean, because it’s familiar in a way I can’t say, but it isn’t that I want to drown. Just to be held. Simple as that. To be swayed and touched, carefully and gently. To be held by something that won’t let go._

_I don’t know why I’m writing this, or why I finally feel brave enough to say stuff like this—maybe it’s because you’re not here, and this is a piece of paper, but well. Here. I guess what I’m trying to say is—_

_I miss you._

_Killua_

* * *

Gon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. In and out, one two three. Don’t rush, take it slow, go easy. Feel the earth underneath your feet, the wind on your arms, the smell of wet dirt around you. This is familiar, a place you know, keep safe, there is nothing here to harm you. Hold the peace you feel, hold it tight, and don’t let go. Breathe. It will be okay.

He opens his eyes, and what stands before him is the forest. Bright, green, and everything he’s ever known. It stands tall and old, and Gon knows that these trees have seen him ever since he was a little boy, that they have seen him change and grow into who he is now, and that these are not the same ones that found him on the brink of destruction. These ones carry no threats, only here to ease comfort like it used to. It won’t be like last time.

Gon steps into the forest, walking slowly, a hand reaching out to touch the leaves and the tree trunks, fingertips tracing the wood like an old friend. He knows this path, and has been through it a million times before. It won’t lead him to the dark, like he imagines it would, it won’t lead him back there. This is a part of home. He’s on Whale Island, far away from all that happened. Here, he’s safe.

He’s safe.

As Gon keeps walking, the sounds of the ocean fall away little by little, until all that’s left is the quiet hymn of the birds and the rustle of the leaves as they dance along to the breeze. He passes by shrubs and plants that he recognizes—some that he’d named on his own, because there were no past records of them—and he feels the eyes of a couple of wild animals on him, but they don’t approach him, or attack. Gon is thankful for that, at least, but he wouldn’t really mind having any friends along. He walks straight ahead, keeps his head held up high so he doesn’t falter, and doesn’t look back.

Sunbeams catch on his eyes, the glare of the sun filtering through the leaves, and Gon holds up a hand to shield himself from it. His heart beats a steady pace, a good sign, as he walks further and further into the forest. It’s been a good twenty minutes now, and he feels the seconds ticking away gently, almost like leaves falling away. There’s no pressure on his nerves, one foot in front of another, and Gon doesn’t think about what happened that night. He only thinks about old memories—about swinging on vines, jumping from tree to tree, the first time he’d successfully climbed branches, and the other time he’d reached the top. He thinks about those and walks straight ahead. His breathing remains even, and he thinks, _I’m doing it._

Because before anything else, before the Hunter Exam and before Greed Island, before NGL—this forest was Gon’s first adventure. This is where he began his love for exploration, where he’d started thinking that there was more out there than this island, that there was _more_ to the world. That he had to see it, he had to experience it, and learn what exactly out there that made leaving home worth it. To know why Ging had done what he did, and to follow in his steps just to find him and learn exactly why.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s what Ging had told him about—to watch out for the little detours. For the things that he finds on his way to his grand goal, the little things that catch his attention on his journey. The small things are the important ones, more than anything else. If there’s anything at all Ging was right about, it was that.

Because even if things didn’t turn out completely right, Gon had memories to relive and keepsakes to hold and people to call, no matter how far away they were from the island. Because he’d taken the Hunter Exam and started off on a journey that allowed him to meet so many amazing people and fight in adrenaline-inducing battles. Because he wouldn’t be here now, if it weren’t for all the people who’d helped him along the way, if it weren’t for all those little detours that had taken him by the hand and allowed him to grow.

And even now that it’s all over, he has them with him, to tell him to keep going, keep pushing, and that giving up is the one thing they will never allow him to do.

It’s a magical and beautiful thing, he thinks, to learn about how his life is made up of so many people. That this is what happens to everyone—like puzzle pieces finding their right places, sticking together and refusing to let go. How once a person becomes a part of your life, they never truly disappear, and some pieces of them will always remain long after they leave. That every person has something to give to another, a bit of love, a bit of sacrifice, but everyone is made up of the little things taken from each other. Built from memories and experiences, ticks and quirks and speech patterns. How much you learn from the people around you, and how much of it you keep. And in the exact same way, he is part of so many lives that he can’t even keep track of, and he has no idea how many there could possibly be. It’s comforting to know that he is a part of them as much as they are a part of him.

Those little detours he’d taken, and all that it’s brought to him. He’d found Killua, and also found the world right in his eyes, someone who could finally match him step for step, side by side all the way. He’d found Leorio and Kurapika, who care for him fiercely and understand more than anything what it’s like to have lost. He found his teachers, and people to stand by against the worst enemy they’ve ever had to battle against. He’d found friends wherever he went, people of different strengths and weaknesses, of higher levels than him, farther than he could ever reach. He’d found secrets and learned to keep them, found stories that have etched their way to his heart. He’d found all of these, just for him to keep.

And in the end, he’d also found Gon Freecss, himself as he truly was, and he’d learned of all the ways that a person could grow to do things better the second time around.

Despite everything that’s happened, he’d found more than he had lost, and that’s worth more than anything he could ever hope to ask for.

Gon makes it to a clearing in the forest, and stops for a moment just to breathe it all in. There are patches of sunlight where the leaves above don’t block the sun, and he settles himself into one of them, blooming flowers by the edges of the trees. There is no racing heartbeat, no shadows—all that’s with him is easy breathing. He leans back on his arms, relaxed, content to stay still for just a few minutes. He’s made it.

Suddenly, the same old and ugly feeling creeps up on him, like dark shadows following him, and he pushes them back down, and doesn’t let him think of it. Closes his eyes and breathes. Maybe this feeling won’t ever completely go away, and that’s okay. But he can’t let it ruin something he once loved dearly.

Gon looks over at the flowers around him, a rainbow full of colors, gathered all around him. There are yellow ones, bright and orange, a couple of blue ones, curling into the sky like they’re reaching for the sun. Others dusted with pink and red, not quite bloomed yet, violet tinged with indigo and gold. He doesn’t know all their names, but after a while, his eye catches on one that he does know.

A sweet-scented white flower, bell-shaped and perennial. _Lily of the valley,_ Mito once told him, smiling warmly. _The flower of your birth month. It symbolizes the return to happiness._

Gon edges closer to it, but doesn’t touch it—they can be poisonous, too, his aunt had said, so be careful with them, and make sure to never eat them. He simply looks, watching as they form before him in full bloom, white and pure.

A few minutes later, satisfied, Gon stands back up, and looks around himself one more time. The forest really is a beautiful place, he thinks, a little sad that it had been taken away from him for this long. But that doesn’t really matter now, anyway, and he’s a lot better now. Like a flower finally bloomed, a glasslike soul within him. Raising his arms over his head, he pretends like he’s reaching for the sky, like how he’d stood at the top of the World Tree, unafraid of falling. He imagines that he’s about to storm the heavens, just to feel what it’ll be like to be that high up again, where the entire world is clear in his eyes and to know that it’s where he belongs with everyone else.

On the way back, he doesn’t walk. Instead, he climbs a tree, and braces himself for the jump—from branch to branch, a wingless bird in flight, feeling the wind on his face as he laughs into the open air, just like he’s done so many times before. It’s familiar, like muscle memory, and wow, does it feel great to be _back._ A smile rests on his face the entire way home, and feels freer than he has in a really long time.

And when he reaches back home, Mito is already there waiting for him, ready to welcome him with open arms.

* * *

#12: The forest

_for being my first great adventure_

#13: The sky

_for letting me dream I could conquer it_

* * *

The day after Gon finishes painting the birdhouse with vibrant colors of the sky, Mito brings out the ladder from the shed and props it against the side of the house for him to use. It takes him the better part of two hours to properly fasten the birdhouse to the wall by his window, but by the time he’s done, the birdhouse stands tall and proud for birds flying by to use. He places a little bit of food inside, water in the little cup he made by the side, and adds a thin layer of grass, sticks, and sawdust for the birds to use as a nest.

When he hops back down to the ground, he looks up at his creation proudly, feeling all the time he’s spent working on it build up this moment of accomplishment.

“It looks wonderful, Gon,” Mito says, admiring it next to him, and she ruffles his hair affectionately. Her hair flows gently in the wind, framing her face, and making her younger. For a moment, it reminds Gon of when he was younger—of afternoons spent running around the garden and asking Mito to play with him, with him rambling on about the shapes he saw in the sky and her naming the stars for him by the time night fell.

“I hope they’ll like it,” he tells her with a smile. He’d tried to make it as eye-catching as possible, hoping that at least some of them would try to swoop by. Birdhouses are, after all, the halfway home for those aiming to reach the heavens.

“I’m sure they will,” she says confidently. With a nod, she turns to him properly, her smile soft. “Now even if the birds leave,” she says, and there’s something different about the way she speaks, a little melancholic. “They’ll always know they have a home to return to.”

He has a feeling that the words mean something else, and with the way she’s looking at him he gets the sense that it’s directed at him, for him. But it slips by him, almost there but not quite, but it’s strong enough that he knows that the understanding will come to him when the time comes. He doesn’t have to be afraid.

So Gon nods and smiles, and lets the birds find their way back home.

* * *

#14: The birdhouse

_for proving that these hands_

_aren’t just for destruction_

* * *

“There! Done!” Gon says, grinning widely. He holds up his newly-finished fishhook with pride, glinting in the sunlight from where he sits by the sea. “It was kinda hard at first, but also really fun! Thank you for teaching me!”

The fisherman matches Gon’s own smile and chuckles lightly. Gon had spotted the old man making fishhooks from scratch while walking down the docks, and had insisted that he teach him. Gon already knows how to make some from pins, or tiny scraps of metal—but the fisherman’s nearly able to make them from out of anything at all, and it’s absolutely fascinating. So now Gon sits with him, his own fishhook in his hands, more than happy with himself. It’s always a good skill to have, especially since his fishing rod has proved to be a pretty useful weapon more times than he can count.

“It was a pleasure, my boy,” the fisherman says, his eyes crinkling with his smile, hands calloused with the years of experience he wears in his skin. “Come by anytime you feel like it, and we’ll go fishing together, alright?”

“Sure!” Gon tells him, as he stands back up. He carefully tucks his fishhook into his pocket, making sure it won’t poke him as he walks, picking up the basket Mito had given him. He’d been instructed to buy some fruits and vegetables while he was down by the market, so he walks through all the stalls, making friendly conversation as he picks out the better pieces. He even sees Noko and waves at her while checking out the mangoes, making sure to pick the ripe ones for Abe. When he’s finished, the sun is right above him in the sky, a little past noon, and Gon heads home feeling light on his feet.

A bird twitters overhead, soaring gracefully before landing into the birdhouse. Gon beams, and watches as it pecks out the food he had placed this morning, the fresh water laid out for it to sip from. He adjusts his hold on his basket before entering the house, calling out his arrival and placing the vegetables in the kitchen for him to wash later.

“Gon, were you able to get all of them?” Mito asks, coming down on the steps.

“Yup!” he says as he washes his hands under the sink, before wiping it off with a towel. “The mangoes seemed pretty ripe, and I hope they’re sweet! Abe will really like them.”

Mito nods. Her eyes flicker, like she’d just remembered something important. “Oh! Your phone was ringing earlier! It had stopped ringing by the time I got there, but I believe that it was Killua who had called.”

“Killua?” Gon says, eyes widening. He wonders why Killua would call. Their weekly call isn’t supposed to happen for another two days. Maybe Killua has some good news, like something to do with Alluka and Nanika—or what if they’re in trouble? What if Illumi is back? Without another word, he heads up the stairs and barges into his room, finding his phone on his desk. He dials a set of numbers he already knows by heart, and presses it to his ear as it rings.

The call connects, but the voice that answers isn’t Killua’s.

“Hello?” Alluka says, her tone floaty but dignified, uncompelled and vaguely curious. A voice made for laughter. “Gon? Is that you?”

“Alluka!” Gon says excitedly. “Hi! How are you? I think Killua called earlier, but I wasn’t there to answer it.”

“Oh no, that was still me,” she tells him, which confuses him a bit. “Bisky asked him to go to the grocery for her, and I wanted to talk to you, so I borrowed his phone. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is!” Gon tells her amicably. “What did you want to talk about?”

Then it’s almost like something shifts in the air, subtle, but it turns things a little more serious, and Alluka’s tone is gentle, but steady, when she says, “How do I make Brother happier?”

Gon let’s surprise wash over him. He hadn’t been expecting this. “What—” he falters. “Alluka, you and Nanika already make Killua incredibly happy. He loves you more than anything.”

“I know, I know,” Alluka says, and Gon knows that she understands that, for all the ways that Killua shows his affection and care. “But it’s not—it’s not enough. It’s just—it doesn’t happen often, but occasionally he gets all sad, and whenever I ask about it, he says it’s nothing. And I think that—I think it might have something to do with you, Gon.”

Her words strike him, and his pulse begins to race. Making Killua sad is the _last_ thing he wants, and now Alluka is saying that he could be the cause, just as he repeatedly promised to do better this time around—has he been reading this all wrong? Is keeping in contact with Killua hurting him? Has he been selfish again, by talking to Killua because he wants to, and being ignorant that it was actually hurting Killua to do so?

“I’m not blaming you!” Alluka says quickly, trying to assuage him. “I didn’t mean it like that—he loves talking to you every week, I promise, it makes him so happy, and he won’t admit it, but he’s always over the moon when you call.”

Relief floods every inch of him as he hears that. So Killua doesn’t mind that they still talk, and he’s just as happy about it as Gon is? It makes him feel a little light-headed and dizzy all at once, the whiplash of emotions. He’s grateful, at the very least, for what Alluka has said.

“I just think he misses you a lot sometimes,” Alluka continues, her voice soft. “It happens a little after you call, too, so that’s why I think that might be it. Don’t get me wrong—he’s really been a lot happier now compared to when we began traveling together, and that makes me really happy too, but it still feels like there’s something missing, you know?”

Gon does. He knows, because sometimes the calls don’t feel like they’re enough, and the space between them is too wide for them to reach over. And it’s been months now since he realized that he loves Killua in a different light, and it hurts a little in his chest when he thinks about the distance that separates them.

“Yeah,” Gon says. “I get it.”

“I don’t—he won’t tell me everything that happened to both of you, or why you’re both so stubborn about not seeing each other when you clearly miss each other, but I think you mean more to each other than you know,” Alluka adds, her tone a little fond. “Don’t you think that it’ll be better to be together?”

“I can’t—I can’t answer that,” Gon admits, more to himself than to Alluka, because it’s not for him to say this time. “If we’re to see each other again, it has to be when Killua’s ready, too. Not just me.”

“And what if I tell you that I think he’s ready?”

“Then all that’s left is for it to come from him,” Gon tells her. In all honesty, he wouldn’t mind seeing Killua and Alluka again—he’d be more excited than anything, really—but there’s a part of him that still resides in doubt. In fear that he’ll still mess everything up, even when he has Abe’s words to reassure him that he’ll do everything he can to do things right. That he isn’t finished growing quite yet. “I’m not going to take any more than he’s willing to offer, Alluka. Not after all of this.”

She sighs, but it’s more out of exasperation than it is disappointment. “Okay,” she says. “But please keep calling him, okay? You should see the way he lights up when you do.” She finishes the end of her words with a light giggle. “And you like him anyway, don’t you?”

Gon’s eyes widen. He knows sometimes he can come off too strong, but he didn’t expect this, not so soon. “How did you—? Does Killua—?”

“No, no!” Alluka says. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he does. For someone who’s really good at analyzing things and overthinking, he’s a bit oblivious when it comes to stuff like this.”

He deflates, relieved. He doesn’t want it to get in the way of how they are now—close, but not close enough. It could only widen the gap even more, and Gon wants anything else but that. “Okay,” he says. “You scared me there.”

Alluka laughs. “But really, Gon, he’s happy other times, but I think he’s just happiest around you.”

Gon blushes, feeling his heart stutter in his chest. “Then you and Nanika make him even happier than that. Whenever we talk, he’s always gushing about you two,” he tells them, going for casual even when he can still feel the heat in his cheeks. “And you don’t have to worry. I’ll always be here, for both of you.”

“Thanks,” Alluka says gratefully. When she speaks again, her voice becomes a lot softer, a bit more dreamlike, not quite what it was before. “Thank you, Gon,” Nanika says, sweet as a breeze.

“Of course, Nanika,” Gon says as kindly as he can.

Before either of them can get another word in, there’s a loud bang, and two voices overlapping each other in the background, almost like a shouting match. It doesn’t seem to be too heated, though, because he can hear Alluka laughing at whatever’s happening.

“Would it kill you to be at least grateful, Bisky? Old hag,” another voice cuts through before there’s another shriek, presumably Bisky. “Hey—Alluka, is that my phone? I knew I left it! Wait—who are you talking to?”

“Oh, Killua’s back,” Alluka says into the phone, but there’s more static and rustling now. “Nice talking to you, Gon!”

“Sure—”

“Wait—Gon?” Killua says, confused, and his voice is more clear now, distinct in a way that’s familiar. It would be nice, Gon thinks to himself, to hear Killua in person again. “Why were you talking to Alluka?”

“She’s the one that called,” Gon supplies, feeling a little defensive.

Killua’s next question doesn’t seem to be directed at him, but rather Alluka. “Why were you talking to Gon?”

“I just wanted to ask a question!” Alluka answers back, huffing. Gon fights back the urge to laugh. “And you can’t keep him all to yourself! What if I wanted to talk to Gon too?”

“And what question was it, huh?” Killua asks. Gon can imagine the look on his face: a blush slowly spreading on his cheeks, curling from his neck up to his ears. “And I don’t keep him all to myself! You _just_ spoke to him, didn’t you?”

“What we talked about is a secret,” she sing-songs. “Right, Gon?”

His mind flashes instantly to how easily Alluka had known about Gon’s crush—to put it lightly—and how simple it would be for her to mention it to Killua, not that he thinks she would. “Right!” he exclaims, voice just a bit too squeaky. “Sorry, Killua, can’t tell you!”

“Jeez, what’s the point of having a sister and a best friend if they’re both gonna keep me in the dark?” Killua mutters, and Gon lets out a bark of laughter as Alluka giggles by the side. “Is it anything I should be worried about?”

“Nope!” Alluka answers cheekily, and Gon feels giddy inside, like bubbles fizzing out of a shaken soda bottle. “I need to go train with Bisky now, so I’ll leave you two to talk. Bye, Gon!”

“Bye, Alluka!” he calls out cheerfully, before humming a tune under his breath. He settles down on his bed a little more comfortably, pulling a pillow over his lap to rest his arms. “Ne, Killua.”

“Yeah?” Killua says.

“Your sisters care about you a lot,” Gon says, even though he’s aware that Killua already knows it. He just likes to remind him of it, in case he loses his grip on it.

“I know,” Killua says back.

“You make them really happy, too,” he adds with a smile. Those few days he’d spent with the Zoldyck siblings had been enough to tell him that they would go and bring the moon for each other, and even through the way Killua speaks about them on the phone is more than enough evidence of it. Even with growing up with a family that was so insistent on the lack of real love, they had kept an abundance of it in their hearts, and Gon is amazed every time he is made aware of it.

“They’ve…they’ve helped me understand some new things,” Killua confesses quietly. There’s a lot there unspoken, Gon can tell, things that they’ve only said to each other with tears in their eyes and under the cover of darkness, afraid to admit it to the light. When there is nothing to stop them from seeing it for what it truly is, will they face it head on, or will they shy away from it? “They helped me realize that I’ve got to live for myself, and not for anyone else. I finally feel like _me_ , you know?”

Gon nods, even if he knows Killua won’t be able to see it. He can understand it, even just a little—that he feels more like himself, and that he is his own person. He’s not chasing after Ging’s shadow anymore, or running after a hopeless, desperate dream. He’s Gon Freecss, looking for adventure if he can find it, and learning a whole new lot of things along the way.

“I’m glad, Killua,” Gon says sincerely. “I feel like I’ve grown a lot, too, and I’ve been doing a lot of hard thinking about what happened, and I just wanted to say…” he says, voice soft and careful, like he is carrying something fragile in his hands, but still hoping that he won’t have to let go. If he holds it tight enough, maybe it’ll stay. “I’m sorry, Killua. I know I hurt you really badly, and I made a lot of mistakes, but if you’ll let me, I’d really like to make it up to you. I won’t ever do it again.”

“Gon, what—you already apologized before, you don’t have to—”

“It wasn’t enough, Killua,” Gon says, his fingers tightening around the pillow in his grip. “I know I hurt you by telling you to stay out of it, but I—I didn’t know what I’d do, if you got hurt. I couldn’t…I couldn’t lose you too.”

When Killua remains silent, Gon takes it as his cue to continue.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I went ahead, and I didn’t talk to you,” Gon says, feeling the tears prick at his eyes. He feels an ache in his chest, at the realization of this crooked love, struggling to stay in a straight line. “I’m sorry for leaving, Killua. I promise I’ll never do it again, and I’ll do better this time. I’m really, really sorry.”

There’s a heartbeat, and then another, until ten of them pass, ringing loudly in Gon’s ears as he waits with bated breath for Killua to say something, anything. He’d always meant to apologize again, properly this time, and he’ll keep doing it for the rest of his life if that’s what it’ll take. And it’ll hurt a lot, but he’ll stop and leave, too, if that’s what Killua really wants.

“Gon,” Killua says, his voice so quiet that Gon almost misses it. “I was never mad, not about what you said. Yeah, it hurt, but that wasn’t…that wasn’t it. I just—I didn’t understand why you had to do it alone. I wanted to be there for you. I would’ve done whatever you asked, do you know that? Anything at all. I would’ve been happy with it, as long as I was by your side. You just had to ask. But you didn’t.”

There’s another pause, before Killua speaks again, voice cracking like he’s on the verge of crying. “I thought I lost you, Gon,” he says, voice pained, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “There was this moment right after. You—your heart stopped, and I had to—I used my nen, and I was so _scared_ that you wouldn’t come back. Did you know that? I lost you, Gon, even just for a while. It was the worst moment of my life.”

Gon lets the tears slip down his face. “Killua, I didn’t…I didn’t know, I’m so _sorry_.” He clenches his fist, and shuts his face. Killua has gone through so much because of him. So much _pain._ Gon tries to imagine what it would be like, to lose Killua, and he can’t bear the thought of it. How had Killua done it? He feels terrible, guilt-wracked, that Killua had to experience it. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Killua sighs, defeated. “Guess it’s a little funny, huh? We were both just trying to protect each other, and ended up with a lot more than we bargained for.” He releases a shaky breath, and what Gon wouldn’t do, to be able to reach out and take Killua’s hand right now, to feel the softness and the callouses. To reassure him that the space between them isn’t as large as it seems, that they aren’t truly that far from each other. That he’s _alive,_ all thanks to Killua. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t tell you how I felt. I’ve been trying to get better at it lately, expressing myself and what I feel. Alluka and Nanika have been helping.”

Killua inhales, his voice much clearer this time around when he speaks. “And you don’t need to apologize anymore, okay? Just make it up to me, like you said. You’ve got to promise me that you’ll never do something like that again. No matter what, alright?” he tells Gon, sounding a lot more surer of himself. “It’s probably too much to hope that we’ll be able to pick up right where we left off, but I—I’d still like to see you again some day.”

Gon smiles, rubbing at the tears that had fallen down his face. “I promise, Killua. I won’t do it again, I swear,” he says. “And…and I’d really like that, too.”

He feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, making him feel even lighter. There’s a whole whirlwind of emotions running through him—relief, happiness, a bit of regret, but a lot of hope, too. He falls backwards on the bed, relaxed as he continues to cradle the phone to his ear.

“Killua,” he says after a while, gentle. “Are you happy?”

“Didn’t I already say that I was?” Killua says back, until his tone turns into something softer. “It wasn’t easy, but—yeah. Yeah, I am. I really am.”

Gon smiles. “What’s it like over there?” he asks, curious.

“Hm? Oh,” Killua says, tone picking back up. “It’s raining right now, actually, so everywhere it smells like wet dirt. Nearly got caught in it when Bisky asked me to buy some stuff for her. But the sun’s still up, if that’s what you mean. The clouds didn’t block it out all that well. What about you?”

Gon sits back up, gazing out the window. “It’s sunny,” Gon tells Killua lightly. “The grass looks so bright, and the sky is incredibly clear. It’s a good day for a walk, and all the flowers are blooming, too.”

Killua hums. “Any pretty ones?”

“They’re all pretty, Killua!” Gon says, _like you, a dandelion in the spring._ He smiles to himself, imagining Killua’s embarrassed reaction if Gon let those words slip out of his tongue. “The sunflowers look nearly golden, and all the hyacinths look wonderful. The lily of the valleys look really nice, too.”

“Lily of the valley?” Killua says, sounding curious.

“They’re pretty common around here,” he says, thinking of the ones he’d seen the other day. “Mito-san told me that it’s the flower of May, when I was born. They can mean things like purity and luck and happiness.”

“That…that sounds pretty familiar,” Killua says, but there’s something in his tone, different from what it was before. A subtle shift, and something tells Gon that there’s a meaning to it that wasn’t there before. “I think it’d be pretty nice to see some. Maybe if we stay in a place long enough, I could take care of some.”

“Yeah,” Gon says, and his heart trips on itself, stuttering, for reasons that he can’t really understand. “But Killua, they can be poisonous, too,” he says, and suddenly he feels desperate that he let Killua know this, to understand that it’s not always beautiful or grand, and that there will always be a drawback, a downfall, and it doesn’t really seem like he’s talking about the flower anymore, and his words instead sound an awful lot like _it’s rotten work._

“That doesn’t matter,” he says back easily, casually, but there’s a weight to it, added pressure. “I’m immune to poison, remember?” Killua says, and it sounds a lot like _not for me,_ and _not if it’s you._

(Because just like it is for Gon, Killua has seen the best and worst of him, too, and knows exactly what it feels like. And even after all of that, he still chooses to be here, talking to Gon even miles away.)

Just then, he hears Mito call his name from downstairs, and with the way Killua’s yelling into his own background tells him that they both know their time is up. It’s almost like the tension disappears in an instant, and they’re left to how they are now—in two separate rooms in different parts of the world.

“Killua,” Gon says, careful. “Can I…can I call you again later?”

“Yeah,” Killua says back, sounding a little breathless. “Sounds good to me.”

The call ends then, and Gon is left with a whirlwind of emotions in his head, trying to stop his heart from beating too wildly and jumping right out of his chest, as though headed straight to wherever Killua is. It might as well be, he thinks to himself, as he heads down into the kitchen. Still, he’s got a good feeling in his chest, and it’s not one he plans on letting go of.

* * *

#15: Alluka and Nanika

_for saving me so I could still be here,_

_and for being true to themselves_

* * *

It startles him, at first, when he feels it. A change in the dynamic, a shift in the power balance. The wind rustles around him even stronger than before, and everything around him seems crystal clear, even with his eyes closed. He can feel _everything_ around him; all his senses are heightened, sharper than before, like he’s experiencing more of the world around him. And in an instant, Gon knows what it is, because this feeling used to be second nature for him. This feeling used to be everywhere, all the time.

It’s _nen_.

Gon’s eyes shoot open once the realization comes to him, standing up, and he feels his heart leap to his throat when he finds that _he can see it._ He can see his aura surrounding him like steam from a kettle, pouring out of him. Quickly, he forces himself to relax to contain it, and perhaps it’s because of all the time that’s passed that it takes him a moment or two to do so, until he’s got it under control. He remembers what Wing had said all those years ago—feel it around you, like the blood in your veins, feel the flow and slow it down, until it swirls in your core. He feels it from the top of his head and down to his legs, and pushes it down, contained within his body.

Despite himself, Gon beams. This is his nen! He’s got it back! After all this time, it’s still been with him, and now he can finally see it again! Maybe it just needed some time, after all, just like him. Time to heal, and time to grow.

Slowly and carefully, it feels like he’s standing in a lukewarm, viscous liquid, and it takes him a couple of minutes before he’s able to move his arms around while retaining it. He’s incredibly rusty and out of practice, but the movements are familiar, like an old habit he’s just relearning. That’s what it really is. And now that he’s confirmed it, that he can see his nen again, he just has to learn how to use it all over again.

But what does this mean for him now? He’s managed just fine without nen, and it’s not that he desperately needs it. He understands why he lost it, and though he’d wanted it back, it’s useful if he wants to head back into the world and go adventuring again. It’ll help protect him, for sure, and those around him. It’ll be good to have it back, but it’s not everything there is, either.

Surely, it’ll take months, or maybe even years to reach the level he was at before, and Gon knows that he shouldn’t rush it, but he’s excited to see where this will all lead him to now. And he knows now what to do and exactly what _not_ to do, and he’ll just have to be more careful this time around. No more restrictions that will break him, or lead to consequences more than he can handle. Gon’s learned that while nen is extremely powerful, it’s also quite fragile, and he has to do his best to strike at the perfect balance of it. There is no taking where there is no giving, and for everything he asks for there is a price to pay. He has to be careful with what he does with it. He won’t let it happen again.

Oh! He has to tell Killua! And then he’ll talk to Bisky and Wing to ask more on how to train properly, so that he can get back on track. It won’t really be easy, since he’ll be training alone, but he can already tell it’ll be worth it in the end. He’s always been better known for his determination, and this is something he doesn’t see himself giving up on soon.

He manages to contain his nen for another ten minutes before it takes his toll on him, and he’s forced to deactivate it. It’s not as long as he would’ve liked, but he doesn’t let it dishearten him. It’s good enough that he got his nen back at all, really, and he’s extremely grateful. All he has to do now is to keep working on it, enforcing and strengthening it to the best of his ability.

Before he heads back inside, Gon stops by the tree to pick some fruit from it, taking a bite from one of them to taste the sweetness on his tongue. He picks a few more for Mito and Abe, humming happily to himself as he enters back into his house, hope and determination blooming in his heart.

* * *

Weeks later, as Gon’s in the middle of trying to maintain his ren as per Bisky’s orders, Mito steps outside of the house, a basket of laundry propped up on her hip, as she walks to the side of the house to lay the bed sheets on a clothesline. They turn crisp the moment she lines them all up, white and clean as they sway along with the breeze. Sunlight rolls down the grassy hills and cliffside, bright and undisturbed. It’s a perfect day.

He walks through the sheets, careful enough to control his aura that it doesn’t interfere with any of them while still maintaining its strength. It’s almost like a training exercise all on its own, keeping him light on his toes as he makes his way towards his aunt. She’s humming an old lullaby as he nears, an old one that she used to sing to him to sleep. Hair blowing in the wind, she smiles when she sees him, eyes crinkling as her features soften with fondness.

There aren’t a lot of old photos in the house. Gon used to look around for some to get a glimpse of Ging, but now he wishes that there were even just a couple of photos around, just for him to see what Mito looked like when she was younger. If she had freckles dotting her cheeks like he does, or if they had the same lopsided, gap-toothed smile growing up. He knows that they don’t look too alike now, since she’s his aunt, but blood tells, sometimes, and he knows that they’re similar in a lot of ways. She’s the one who raised him, after all.

She hums. “Today’s a good day for a picnic, isn’t it?”

Gon nods, agreeing as he steps closer. If his judgement is right, he’s been holding his ren for a little more than three hours now. He releases it slowly, feeling the aura curl into him. “We should have one for lunch!”

Mito smiles at that. “It’s decided then. I’ll make us some sandwiches to take, how does that sound?”

“Yes!” Gon says, pumping a fist in the air. The sky is a perfect flat blue, and the wind rolls down the hills like it’s tumbling down, and Gon wonders if he’ll be able to beat his cartwheel record today. He feels energized despite the training, and he has a pretty good feeling about it. Maybe he could even make a kite and fly it, high into the blue sky.

These kinds of days are his favorite: the ones where he can just relax, and not have to worry. While it’s true that many of his days on Whale Island are like that, since there are only so many things to do in a small place like this, but somehow it still feels like there’s always more to explore, something new. He can do whatever he wants, where it’s free and easy as long as he watches himself. He could lay in the grass for hours on hand, just watching the sun make its way through the sky, an endless journey with the color-changing clouds. He wonders if it’s the simplicity of all this that people crave deep down; that at the end of the day of a long adventure, sometimes people just want to curl up and rest. Take a long nap with their loved ones, warm and soft and happy.

Gon’s happy. He’s really, really happy.

And he’d like to share it, this feeling, with others. It’s the least he could do.

“Oh, it looks like the mailman’s coming,” Mito says, a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. “I wonder who it’s for.”

Gon raises his eyebrows at the implication that it could be for him. Mito sometimes gets letters from old friends who’d left the island, as well as Abe, but they’re not as often. It’s entirely likely that it’s for him.

His curiosity picks up upon that realization, and he watches as the mailman makes his climb up the hill, his figure turning from a tiny dot on the green to the outline of a full person. He looks at them when he finally approaches the house, digging into his bag before bringing out a pristine, white envelope.

He squints at it. “Mail for Gon Freecss?” he says, before turning to Gon. “Is that you?”

“Yup!” Gon says, hurrying over to him, and taking the envelope from him. He signs his name on the clipboard that the man hands over to him with slightly shaky hands, flashing a smile before the mailman heads back down the hill. He flips the envelope over, and his heart soars as he reads the words written on it.

“It’s from Killua!” he tells Mito, bright-eyed and grinning.

Mito smiles back at him. Placing her hands on her hips, she gestures at him with a nod of her head. “Well, go on. Aren’t you going to read it?”

He nods, and wastes no time in opening the envelope, but slowly enough that it doesn’t rip too badly. Every letter from Killua is a treasure, of course, so he has to take care of it. He’s got a box on his shelf that’s dedicated to old trinkets and memorabilia, and each of his best friend’s letters go there.

He unfolds the paper, and reads.

_Dear Gon,_

_Alluka told me something once._

_She said, “Brother, you don’t have to grow alone anymore.”_

_And I looked at her, and I told her that I wasn’t alone, since she was with me. But then she shook her head, and told me that wasn’t what she meant. She said that this kind of growing was something different, a kind that she wouldn’t be able to help me with, but it was something better done with someone else. And I was confused for a really long time, but I think I figured it out._

_I know we’ve already talked about it, but I spent a lot of time growing on my own, and thinking about everything. And I think I’m okay now, that I’ve finally understood what happened, and I know where I want to go. But sometimes, I get this feeling, and I don’t really know how to explain it, but I think I understand what Alluka meant now._

_And well, I was thinking that maybe, one day, we could grow together again. You and me, like before._

_What do you say?_

_Killua_

Gon rereads the letter one more time, and then another just to be sure. Over and over again, until the words begin blurring before him in a jumble of letters and curves—but the meaning stays clear. As clear as the sky above him, in the words that Killua had left behind for him to read, purposefully put down on paper with a pen and ink. Right there for Gon to understand, to consider, his intentions ringing right and true.

“Gon? What is it?” Mito says after a moment, concern echoing in her voice. She takes a step closer. “It’s good news, I’m hoping?”

He beams, all teeth and as wide as he possibly can. “The best news!” he exclaims, and Gon can’t help it—he runs up to Mito and tackles her in a hug, holding both of them for balance as he grins so hard into her embrace. He’s ecstatic, really, and he feels like he could jump and reach the clouds, because _this is it._ This is what he meant when he’d spoken to Alluka, that he would wait for Killua to say it. He would wait for Killua because he didn’t want to push for something that Killua didn’t want, and he wouldn’t have to be selfish. And he doesn’t have to be, now that he knows that Killua’s willing to do it too—Killua wants it, too.

Mito’s eyes read over the words. Then she smiles slowly, genuinely, before reaching out and ruffling his hair. “I’m happy for you, Gon,” she says, and her words show what she feels, as though she already knows what Gon feels, and how this entails that he will be leaving the island again once more. Mito crosses her arms, a twinkle in her eye, and says, “Guess you’ll have to start training harder then, if you want to see Killua as fast as possible.”

And Gon smiles at her. “I will!” he says with a mock salute, already planning to practice his ren later in the day. “But first! Our picnic!”

Mito laughs as a breeze sweeps over them. “Of course,” she tells him, heading towards the front door. “I’ll go make those sandwiches, then. Pack up the blanket and get the basket, will you?”

“Sure!” he says as she opens the door and disappears behind it. Gon takes another look at the paper in his hands, marveling at it and what it means. Killua wants to travel together again, like before, like what they used to do. He wants to grow together.

And then all of a sudden, he understands what Mito had said, all that time ago. What she had meant on that sunny afternoon as he tended to the weeds in the garden, when the light had caught her eyes and turned them golden. _Take care of your garden, Gon,_ she had said. _It’s not any good to grow alone._

It’s not any good to grow alone.

Because they’ve spent enough time growing apart, and now it’s time for them to finally grow together again. And this time, they’ll do better. They’ll get it _right._

Later, as he waits for Mito to get ready for their picnic, the basket in his hands, Gon eyes his phone from where it lies on his bed and picks it up. He dials a set of little numbers on his phone, and waits as it rings.

“Killua!” Gon says the moment the line connects the two of them. “Did you mean it? What you said in the letter?”

There’s a moment before Killua answers, but it’s not hesitation. A heartbeat, stringing them together. “Yeah,” he says, sure and defiant. “Yeah, I did.”

“So I can see you?” Gon asks. “You’ll let me try again?”

“Come find me,” Killua says. “And I’ll meet you halfway. You’re a Hunter, aren’t you?”

(Outside, the larkspurs begin to blossom, beautiful and extraordinary.)

Gon grins, wider than ever before. It feels like a million suns bursting inside his chest, and he feels the excitement thrum through him—filling up all his nerves until he’s bouncing on his toes. This is it, he thinks, and he’s not sure how long it will take, but he knows for sure that he’ll be able to catch Killua along the way. They’ll share a horizon again, maybe even see the same sunrise. This is where he’s going to begin.

* * *

Gon watches as a leaf gently falls down and lands on the tip of his nose. He picks it up and places it onto the water next to him, floating side by the side. The cave walls echo as he sings along to one of the pop songs he’d heard on the radio once, but his own hearing is distorted by his ears half-sunk into the water. Light streams down from the open hole in the ceiling, sunbeams catching on the curve of his cheeks, on his eyelashes, the dots of his freckles a little brighter like man-made constellations. Gon lets his body float in the water, uncaring for the way that he sways, shoulders relaxed as he lies there, watching the clouds move from his spot inside the cave.

In truth, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here. He’d just finished his training sets for the day, and had decided that he still had enough energy to explore, and somehow he’d ended up here, in this little cave. It’s a nice place to just be, without having to think much about anything else, and Gon is grateful for the shade it provides. The water is clear and clean, and when the light falls on it, it breaks into fragments that he can’t quite catch, a million colors to float right by him.

It makes him feel relaxed, if anything else. There aren’t many sounds except for the distant rustle of the forest animals, and the occasional drip of water, or the waves he makes on the surface. Ripples that create even bigger ones, circling each other over and over again like a rhythmic pattern, like clockwork. There aren’t too many fish around, either. He’ll have to leave before the tide gets too high for him to swim out, but for now, he’ll just stay and watch.

Occasionally, he’ll close his eyes and let his mind wander. Dream. Imagine scenarios in his head like adventures, and play them out just to see where they’ll go. Like merging with fish to become one, or growing so tall that his head reaches the clouds. Robots and lasers shooting at the waters, like from that comic book he read, or a heavy snowstorm passing through the island, but that one’s more of a fantasy than anything else. Sometimes, he’ll replay one of his memories—one from his childhood, where he’s sitting with Mito while she’s reading him a story, the crackle of the fire gentle against her soothing voice, and he’ll fall asleep in her arms. Or maybe it’s from his days with Killua, and they’re running from another monster, but laughing and having fun along the way because he knows they’ll come out on top. Another memory where he wakes up and the sun is filtering through the windows to where Killua lies next to him, hair ablaze with silver, the shadows on the dip of his cheeks lighter, the curve of his jaw almost soft, and Killua blinks his eyes open, mouth moving just enough to say _good morning_. The day he’d spent at the beach with Kurapika and Leorio, watching them curl their fingers around each other in a secret message that only the two of them could understand. Things like those, vivid but dreamlike all the same, in his grasp to keep for the rest of his years to come.

It’s like a story in his head, except he’s not really sure where it’ll end.

But that’s the exciting part about it, isn’t it? The unknown, always just out of his reach, but he tries anyway. The future and what it holds for him, if it will treat him kindly like he’s asked it to. If it will be as good as he hopes it will. He likes to think so, and he’s always been an optimist. Maybe it’s too idealistic of him, too naive, but Gon knows better already, and has seen the worst that life has to offer him. He can do a little more. And that’s what makes it fun anyway, right? The adrenaline coursing through his veins, keeping him on his toes as he walks the balance that could send him toppling backwards, his nerves on fire, quick escape routes, and solid plans going horribly wrong. A little insane, maybe, slightly crazy, but Gon’s always loved the thrill of it all. What’s an adventure without it?

Once he’s sure he’s strong enough, he’ll be able to go on adventures again. Maybe even with Killua. It doesn’t really matter what they’re looking for, or where they’re headed—it’s the journey that matters, isn’t that what the old folks say? The little detours that they find, the people they meet, the stories they hear. Wherever he ends up is a mystery, but it’s one he’s excited to solve. What lies at the end of the world? What will he find there? What happens after the end?

There’s only one way to find out.

Another leaf drops onto his face, and Gon opens his eyes. Maybe it’s time to stop dreaming. He doesn’t need to, not anymore, not when the real thing is just around the corner. It’s only a matter of time.

* * *

When Gon dreams, he dreams of the sunlight.

He’s standing in a meadow he’s never been in before, with fields filled with millions of flowers, of every color imaginable, vibrant and thriving with life. It’s fresh all around him, and a gentle breeze pushes him along, walking slowly among the flowers. Light shines down on from the sky, illuminating each and every one of them, and the flowers bloom with brilliant jewels and gems at their center. Sunflowers and dandelions and marigolds, and even hundreds more that he can’t name. He can’t tell where the horizon ends and the field begins, and all around him is the blue sky, cotton candy clouds slowly making their way through.

There’s a gentle thrum, like the beating of a drum, but he can’t tell where it’s coming from. Somewhere under him, maybe, or from up in the sky. But oddly enough, it doesn’t make him feel anxious, maybe even a little relaxed, and as Gon listens he finds that it doesn’t get any louder, no matter where he is. He holds his hands out, and finds them the same as they’ve always been: with scars running along them, faded with time, rough skin from so many years of use.

A shining sound, and something drops into his open palm. A raindrop, except it doesn’t break upon impact, it hovers over his palm—golden and solid, but still enough of a liquid to wobble when he pokes it. He looks at it curiously, wondering what it could be, and just as he’s about to try to touch it again, it falls apart and breaks, dissolving into nothing but air.

When Gon looks up again at his surroundings, there’s a small dot that wasn’t there before. Something in the distance, but too far to make out, and Gon picks up his pace towards it. He doesn’t run, but he feels lighter than usual, like there’s no rush to get where he wants to be. He walks, momentarily stopping to smell and admire the flowers at times, even picking some up to carry with him. A purple one, with three sepals that droop downwards, an iris, and another with petals scarlet like a pair of familiar eyes, a red anemone. Then finally, a second purple one, with flowers stacked on the same stem—a larkspur, if he’s right. He carries these three with him, as he walks along, holding onto them with delicate fingers.

Up closer, he learns that the dot in the distance is a house. When he finally approaches it, he finds that it’s a small cottage. Old, and a little worn down, but decorated with vines and orchids all over the walls. The windows are shut, the glass too dusty to see anything through them, the brick walls a pale beige.

By the side of the house sits a small lake, one Gon’s not sure had been there this whole time, with tiny little fish swimming through it. It’s clear and blue, shimmering with the sunlight that comes down. When he comes closer, he finds his own reflection staring back at him—but despite the stillness of the water, his own reflection is a little blurry, and there’s something off about the way he looks. A little different, with more defined features, like how he would be if he were older. For a second, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of white on the water, but it disappears in less than a second. A trick of the light, maybe. He shrugs, not dwelling on it too much, like a voice telling him not to worry about it, and heads back towards the cottage.

Gon places a hand on the wooden door, and pulls it open slowly. It creaks a bit due to the disuse, but he gets it open enough that he can slip in.

The sunlight is enough to shine through and show him everything inside. It seems very cozy, everything tightly knitted together, very well lived-in. A small kitchen that shares space with a living room, a cotton couch across a fireplace. There are a few potted plants, some on the windowsill, others on the floor. Shelves on a wall that are stacked with books of different kinds, words on the spines that he can’t understand. Some about magical beasts, pharmaceutical uses of plants, static electricity. An odd combination of all of them. Thick and old books at the bottom, and maybe some photo albums. Hanging lightbulbs are corded from the ceiling, but Gon isn’t sure where the electricity would even come from. It’s a little curious.

Someone must’ve lived here before, he thinks to himself. The fireplace is empty, ash long dried out, and the walls have a thin sheet of dust on them. He wonders why they left in the middle of it—in such a beautiful place, too. Or maybe they’re just out for a little trip, and will be coming back soon.

There are picture frames hanging on the wall, but they’re all empty. Several of them, all lighted up decoratively, some old and wooden while others gold-plated. He wishes he could see what the owners looked like, or just get a glimpse into what their lives are like. A home so far away from the rest of the world, but where the sun shines forever. It must be pretty nice, sometimes, even if Gon doesn’t think it’d be really easy for him to settle down in one place for too long. Maybe it’s a rest house, just somewhere to wind down and relax, where the troubles won’t find you.

As he looks more into the house, there’s a bedroom with only one bed, and only one bathroom, but two different toothbrushes and two towels hanging from the rack. So it must’ve been a couple who lived here, maybe old people who stayed here for retirement, or to get away from their busy lives. There are even more picture frames on the desk by the bed, but empty once more, and a lamp that hasn’t been used in a while. Gon eyes the matching mugs on the counter—one decorated green like a frog, and the other a white cat—and wonders where they went. Maybe they’re on an adventure together.

He leaves the flowers he’d picked up on the counter next to the other pots the line up on the windowsill, and maybe the owners will find these when they come back, a sign that he was here, if only just for a moment. What will they think when they see it?

He exits the house when he realizes there’s nothing truly to find that will help him. He’s back in the meadow again, green expanse for miles and miles, shimmering light on every nook and crevice that the place has to offer. It’s a wondrous place, really, and he has half a mind to wonder if this place exists in real life, so far removed from reality as it is, a bit like Greed Island. If it’s possible for him to come here and find this house, sit down and have a meal, glance at the photographs and know the stories behind him.

He’d like to be able to.

Gon walks into the meadow, sitting by the flowers to rest, curling some together to make a crown on his head. The sun never seems to go down, and he keeps going until the dream slips by him, losing its hold, and he wakes up, back on Whale Island.

* * *

On the day that Gon finally completes his nen training, Mito makes a celebratory dinner filled with all of Gon’s favorite food. There’s even a cake with his face on it, _Congratulations!_ spelled out with green frosting. Nearly all of their plates have been placed with all different kinds of food cooked in various ways, glasses filled up with an assortment of drinks to choose from, an array of desserts from cookies to ice cream. It’s quite a lot for a small party of three, but Gon is infinitely grateful for the work and effort his aunt had put in just for him, and he thanks her more times than he can count.

“It’s no trouble at all, Gon,” Mito reassures him, slowly placing food on her own plate. “It’s a great achievement, why shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

“But you really shouldn’t have had to, Mito,” he says through a mouthful of food, and taking a couple gulps of water. “Let me clean up, at least.”

She only smiles. “Of course, that was always the plan.”

Despite his best efforts, Gon’s stomach gets full an hour and a half later, but he’s able to have tasted everything. To make sure that none of it goes to waste, Mito packs some of the food to give to their neighbors, while keeping some of them to eat as leftovers for the next day. Gon keeps his promise and helps her clean the dishes, getting soap all over his hands and arms, bubbles tickling at his skin.

Once they’re finished, Gon stands in the middle of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. He feels really elated at the idea that he’s done with his training, and that means that it won’t be long now before he can try doing all sorts of things with his hatsu. He’ll come up with new ways to enforce it and make it stronger, in ways that he won’t need to bind himself with a restriction for more power. He knows better than to sacrifice himself for power, and the consequences can always slip into more something sinister than intended.

“Oh, Gon,” his aunt calls, and he turns to look at her holding a piece of paper in her hands. “You’ve got another letter. It came in today while you were speaking with Bisky.”

He feels curious at what it could be. “Thanks, Mito-san,” he says, and this situation feels a little familiar, but it could be just that he’s been receiving more letters lately. Killua’s been sending some, even if they’re just short ones, and Gon’s been doing the same. He takes the paper from her, and reads the words written upon them.

It’s another letter from Kite. Gon wonders what it could be about. Another invitation for a trip, maybe?

It starts off with Kite replying to some of the questions Gon had asked in his last letter. Just some details about the latest species they had discovered, like its eating habits or where its population mostly resides. It’s interesting stuff, in Gon’s opinion, and he’d really enjoyed traveling with Kite before to discover new things. Kite asks about how Gon is, and how his training has been going along. Gon’s excited to tell them the answer to that, really, and he can already imagine the words forming inside his head. _I just finished actually,_ he’ll write with pride, and knows that Kite will be happy to hear it. Gon keeps reading the letter, letting his smile grow as Kite goes on about their latest plans for another expedition, and then—

_My offer from last time still stands. If you’d like to join us, you’ll be easily welcomed._

The letter ends a bit after there, with Kite promising to write again soon, but Gon can’t really think much besides that. He gets that same feeling he’d gotten from when he receives that letter from Killua, but this one feels _different_. This one is something else, a little shaped like a dream that he hadn’t really thought to expound on, but here it is now, taking a plausible form before him. It’s another invitation.

And just like last time, Gon knows his answer.

“It’s another invitation from Kite,” Gon tells Mito, who looks at him with surprise. There’s something lodged in his throat, but he makes himself look at her straight in the eye, and forces the words out. “This time, I think—I’m going to say yes. I’m ready.”

Her eyes widen, and fill with an emotion that Gon isn’t able to name. He feels a little bad, guilty, even, for saying that he’s going to leave again. But this is something she’s always known, after all, that Gon was never going to stay on the island forever, now that he’s seen the world. Even more so with Killua’s letter and especially now, with Kite’s offer that will allow Gon to do what he wants—to _explore._ To see what’s out there, what lies beyond where he is now.

So she just opens her arms, and Gon steps into the embrace, letting her hold him, just like she used to when he was a child. “Oh, Gon,” she murmurs quietly into his hair. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Gon tells her, a promise in the making, to her and himself both. Because Mito had nearly lost her son once without even knowing what was happening at the time, and now Gon is getting ready to leave again, and maybe he’ll have to fight for his life tooth and nail again and again. He lets go of her and shows her a sunny smile, the trademark of the family. “It’ll be okay, Mito-san.”

She smiles, but there’s no denying the tears that are forming in her eyes. “I know,” she says, and Gon can tell that she means it. “But it’s my job to worry about you, you know. I _am_ your mother.”

Gon laughs, and just takes her hand. “Yeah, the very best one!”

She just shakes her head with one final sigh. “Alright. We can continue talking about your trip in the morning. It’s time for some rest.”

He nods, and does a sweep of the kitchen once more. Everything’s already been cleaned and out in its proper place. He takes the letter from the table and folds it back into the envelope, feeling the smooth texture in his hands. An invitation. He can’t wait to tell Kite his answer.

“Good night, Gon,” Mito says, just before she heads inside her own room.

He smiles. “Good night, Mito-san!” Walking into his room, he sets the envelope carefully on his desk, the cool night air blowing into his room through the window. He takes a peek outside, and finds that a bird has made a nest in the birdhouse for the night. With a happy sigh, Gon stares up at the moon and the stars, and sends them a silent _thank you_. Everything is finally coming together.

It’s the end of the day, but the beginning of something else entirely.

* * *

#16: Whale Island

_for being my home_

* * *

The thing about growing up on Whale Island, Gon learns, is that it will never truly leave you.

It’s a clear, bright afternoon on his last day. The sky is flat and tinged with a million colors blending in together. The clouds float slowly over their heads, as pink slowly paints itself onto the sky, deep streaks bleeding into it. Orange creeps up on them as the sun begins its descent for the day, a promise for another time. Gon sits at the top of a hill as he watches the line between the sky and sea blur. There are no ships at the harbor today, but there will be tomorrow morning. One to pick him up, with people he knows there to welcome him. It’s almost like a day of like any other, but there’s always more to some things than it seems.

Gon lets out a slow breath as the breeze sings its goodbye to him, not just for the day, but for several days to come. It hadn’t really felt like it, the slow turning of time, hours from minutes to seconds, but here he is now, where his time has finally come up. He’s different now, from when he was a small boy to where he stands now, taller and older, but he’s still got young bones within him, memories in his muscles, a lot more experience than when he began. He’s not finished growing, and maybe he never will be, but he’s got more under his belt than fleeting dreams and unfulfilled promises. He knows better now, has seen the best and the worst of what the world has to offer, but still he chooses to see it, to _belong_ within it.

And even if that means leaving, then he’ll do it.

Whale Island’s never been a place to stay too long in, after all. And those who do make a home here never really leave. A place to pass by, to take a break, to heal. A place so stationary, so grounded, that it’s reliable enough to come by and simply exist in it. It’s Gon’s home, a part of so much of him, and though he knows that where he comes from doesn’t define who he’ll become, it’s where he’d first planted his feet, to show him how far he’s come. He’s seen the sun, and weathered through the storms, and come out on top. It’s his starting point, his beginning.

And in just a few hours, it’ll be time to leave.

It feels different from the first time he left. Then, it had been a rush of excitement and nerves, the sweet feeling of being able to leave _,_ to chase after what he’s dreamed after so long. To become a Hunter, and finally, _finally_ understand what exactly about it had been so enthralling that Ging chose to leave and never come back. He’d been younger and smaller then, armed with a fishing rod and a heart too big in his chest. He’d known so little, and learned so much.

And now, he is leaving again. He can see his house from where he stands on the hill, and he memorizes the outline in the distance; the length of the chimney, the slope of the roof, and the sturdiness of the walls. Even the birdhouse he’d built by the window, just a tiny little thing from where he’s looking. He feels a proud smile grown on his face at the thought of it, and he’ll miss all of it. He’ll miss his simple days spent just exploring the forests and going swimming; he’ll miss coming home to Mito’s cooking and even getting nagged about doing his homework. He’ll miss waking up with the sunlight streaming through the window, and the way the stars are so much brighter here than anywhere else. He’ll miss his room and the garden with his tree. He’ll miss the island, and he already knows that times will come to leave him homesick, but that’s just the way it is. That’s the way it is for him to find _more_. A garden of memories, because even the most perfect moments can only be preserved in the mind.

(He can’t deny that he’s scared. Terrified, even, that he’ll make the same mistakes all over again or that everything will go impossibly wrong and leave things worse than where he began—but he’s also learned bravery, and that there is no courage if there is no fear to begin with. He has hope, and he has the strength to make it right. He just needs to hold on to it.)

He turns to Mito, and he feels a little bad about leaving all over again. He doesn’t want to leave her and Abe alone again, where only letters and calls can connect them, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, if this is what calls to him. She’s standing on the hill with him, staring at the wide blue sea ahead of them, and he wonders if she’s thinking about the same things he is—he wonders if she ever had dreams about leaving, too. If she still does.

“Mito-san,” Gon tries to say, but then she shakes her head, a smile rising to her lips. Gon thinks it’s twinged with a bit of sadness, but there’s a bit of joy there, too, for him.

Instead, she holds up her pinky, for a promise, and it takes Gon back to when she’d done the same thing when he left for the Hunter Exam. He smiles at her, and holds up his own to curl around hers.

“This time will be different,” she says, and Gon knows that she’s right. This time won’t be any easier than the last, but it will be better. “Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, okay? And you’ll write or call, whichever is easier.”

Gon nods. He can’t really find it in him to speak, and he doesn’t even know if he’d find the right words if he did. So he just wraps his arms around her, thankful, and wonders when exactly he’d grown taller than her. When had that moment come and gone, in between all the growing that he’s done? Time had flown by him without even noticing. It has a funny way of doing that, doesn’t it? The trickiness of it all, stopping and slowing down and speeding up all at once. Childhood is the one thing lost that you can never take back, but he doesn’t regret growing older, not when he came so close to losing it.

“Remember,” she tells him, and it’s as though the world stills for a moment, just to hear her words. “Remember that no matter what happens, you are never alone.”

She lets go of him to gesture all around them, the wind blowing as she does, like she’s making it happen. “Remember, that the mountains will always stand tall, and the rivers will always run. The stars will always be here for you to wish on, and the sun will always shine. They will always be here,” Mito says, taking his hands and looking directly at him. “And so will I.”

She squeezes their hands together, three times for three words, and holds his palm up to the sky. “Even with all your scars,” she murmurs quietly, and she has seen him grow and change into this beautiful boy and his summer spirit. “These hands are meant for healing. Remember that.”

He nods again, feeling tears well up in his eyes, and he lets out a shaky laugh, and it feels like his chest is going to burst. Like a sunburst in his heart, finally blooming open, and he can’t keep it within him anymore. It grows big, all the love that he can carry, into something beautiful and bright.

He thinks about the list he’d been writing, the people and the things that have carved special places in his heart, that he holds so delicately and treasures infinitely, and knows that even when he leaves, it is something he’ll be able to continue. Most of life is spent best loving, after all, and Gon can’t wait to see what he’ll get to add to it.

“Whale Island’s never been able to contain boys like you,” Mito says with a smile, her cheeks rosy. “But it will always be a home you can return to.”

Gon smiles, feeling excited and a little nostalgic all at once, the thrumming in his chest buzzing with the idea of something new. He knows that whatever he’s imagining now, the exploration of new species for both flora and fauna, or discovering new places, ancient ruins or heavily-hidden caves. But he’s thankful for what Whale Island is to him, for being his home, and for being a place he can always come back to. No other place has the same level of importance and appreciation in his heart, and he’ll always love it for what it’s given to him.

He’s come a long way from where he’s begun. From what happened with Pitou, to all the way to arriving back home, unable to see his nen and the shaky foundation of his heart. From breaking down and torn by grief, his love turned too much and overwhelming, to now, with a steady heartbeat, feeling brave enough to try again. Maybe he’s a little wiser now, for all that it’s worth. And now he’s going on a trip with Kite and their team to see the world. He wants nothing more than to be able to do that, to find out what makes life truly living. And that’s not all of it, he’ll find even more to it along the way, those little detours to keep with him forever. And Gon knows that one day, somewhere along on this trip, he’ll be able to see Killua again, catch him in some part of the world, and he’ll think to himself, _hello my old heart._

Gon looks around, taking it all in, trying to memorize the way the sky changes color, which way the wind rolls down the hills, the horizon line, and the colors that dance on the spots where the light hits them. He traces them until he’s sure he’s got them down right. There are many sunsets he’ll see in his lifetime, but none of them will ever be as beautiful as the ones on Whale Island. He gazes at the hills and their flowers, the bushes and the trees, the cliffside crevices that he’s mapped delicately into his head. The universe that was made just to be seen by his eyes. All of these things, they’ve helped bring him to where he is now.

_What do you do with the rest of a life you didn’t expect to be alive for?_

It’s this, Gon realizes. It’s all of this.

He can’t wait to see it all in bloom.

* * *

#17: Gon Freecss

_because despite everything,_

_it’s still you_

* * *

This time, there are no bones by the ocean. All that’s left is the slow rhythm of a wave crashing into the shore before pulling back gently, returning to where it once was. The water returns to the ocean from where it came from, back to where it is supposed to be. The moon looks down with a soft gaze, swaying the tides back and forth.

There are no bones in the forest, either. Instead, there is a clearing within it, filled with life. Flowers grow among the trees, shrubs grow with colorful berries, and sunlight filters down through the leaves. It is a good place to rest for a moment or two, to lay down and close your eyes as the day passes you by. Nearby, the lily of the valleys finally bloom, glowing into something vibrant and beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> i got the main four’s flowers from the [mobage cards](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://micherrim.tumblr.com/post/175788476244/hunter-hunter-battle-collection-2018-birthday&sa=D&ust=1594104058492000&usg=AFQjCNHpp98XvraFqgQoOFRbCeTdzZUzyw)! gon’s lily of the valley, killua is larkspur, kurapika is red anemone, and leorio’s is iris!
> 
> the quote that gon and killua are referencing when they’re discussing the toxicity of lily of the valley is from [an oresteia by anne carson](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/10016397-pylades-i-ll-take-care-of-you-orestes-it-s-rotten-work&sa=D&ust=1594104058492000&usg=AFQjCNGCe-IZsgqWgAR-J1ucsEYRAuc5Cw)! i love it a lot and i think it is very killugon aaa
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


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